Making a Mercenary Mind
by greeneman42
Summary: Eleven years after the Arano Restoration, a young woman sets off on her dream journey, to be a Mechwarrior aboard the legendary ship The Argo with the mercenary company The Golden Hand. With a new threat emerging to the High Seat of House Arano. Olivai Madera steps into a dangerous world to fulfil her dreams and meet her heroes.
1. Chapter 1

Olivai Madera huddled against her mother's skirts in the ship's cargo bay at the Smithson spaceport along with nearly fifty other families. Deep booms and the sound of rending metal pierced the walls. Olivai looked up at her mother, who was crouched over her protectively, and her father, his arm around his wife's shoulder looking around for signs of danger. "Momma,"Olivai started. "Are we gonna die?" Breda Madera smiled down at Olivai, the young girl didn't see the tension and fear that tightened her mother's eyes. Mommas were never scared, why should today be any different?

"Of course not sweetie," Breda said. "The High Lady Arano has sent her very best mechwarriors to help us."

"The Golden Hand hasn't lost a battle yet," Her father said. A kindly man, with flecks of grey in his dark hair. His smile settled any worry that had risen in Olivai. "They're not about to start now."

A crackling voice rasped at them over the PA, "All hands brace! This lift-off is going to be bumpy!" As soon as the words were gone the ship roared to life. Vibrations permeated every surface and a dull, constant roar filled the bay. A window across the bay flashed with red and gold as the landscape shifted and pulled away. Olivai her feet and dashed across the space to the window, ignoring twin cries of "Olivai!" from her parents, and looking down at the receding world.

Four Battlemechs, giant, walking machines of war, stood between a larger force and their ship. They hunkered down under withering fire and gave back in kind. As the ship pulled up into the sky, Olivai caught the symbol on the shoulder of one of the defending 'mechs, an outstretched golden palm in the centre of an angular shield.

In the capital of Coromodir IV, eleven years after the close of the Restoration War and the crowning of Lady Arano, Olivai stood before the arrivals and departures board at Coromodir's capital spaceport. A single large duffle bag sitting on her rather expensive work boots held everything she had left in the world. She was looking for something, someone, specific. She was looking for the man who would help her fulfil her destiny.

Frowning, Olivai hitched her duffle over her shoulder and left the board. A rough looking man wearing a high visibility coat stomped through the terminal. "Perfect," Olivai said brightly, matching pace with the man and tugging on his sleeve to get his attention. 'Excuse me-"

"What?!" The man snapped, jerking his arm away from Olivai. "Gods girl, I got work to do, go pester someone else." He shouldered past her and disappeared in the shifting crowds before Olivai could get so much as a word out

"Oh!" Olivai blinked, a little taken aback. "Sorry to bother you!" She called after the man, who was already well and truly gone. A handful of passersby looked at her before carrying on with their day.

"Are you well, Miss?" A warm voice asked. Olivai started and turned. A handsome young man, maybe two or three years older than herself, smiled at her.

"Oh yes, I'm quite alright," Olivai said, brushing off the events of the working man. "I was simply looking for the dropship that belongs to the Golden Hand mercenaries. I need to get to them before they leave."

"You're a Mechwarrior?" The man said, taking a half step back. Olivai missed the incredulity in his voice, he really was quite pretty. The bluest eyes Olivai had ever seen.

"Not yet." She said firmly. "But I will be, the best ever, just you wait."

The young man smiled a brilliant white, dazzling smile. "I'm sure you will." He turned and gestured to the other side of the terminal. "I can take you to them if you'd like." Olivai nodded, "Thank you!"

The young man held out his hand, "let me take your bag for you." Another dashing smile. Olivai blushed. "Why thank you." she handed over her bag and the handsome young gentleman lead her further into the capital's terminal.

"I've been following The Golden Hand since the Restoration," Olivai said excitedly as they walked. "One of their lances saved me and my family on Smithson and I've been a fan ever since."

"That must have been scary." The young man said, not looking at her.

"Mhmm," Olivai nodded emphatically. "I don't remember much but I made sure to listen to every broadcast with Commander Uriel and find out everything I could about him and his mercenaries." It didn't seem proper to mention that she'd been horribly jealous of the High Lady Arano when news of their romance leaked. Or how happy she'd been when later news of The High Lady's marriage to another lord had been made public.

The young man stopped them, throwing out an arm to stop Olivai when she almost walked right by. "Alright, there they are, Pad Six. The Dropship of the Golden Hand."

Olivai gasped. It was glorious.

A handful of workers in small industrialmechs worked to load and unload a variety of crates and boxes, all under the watchful eye of a single battlemech, a Centurion, the head crest made it obvious. "It looks like The Golden Hand is always read-" Olivai looked over at her companion with a ready smile only to find him gone. Gone, her duffle along with him.

"Wha-? Hey!" The back of a young man running full tilt caught her eye through the crowds and Olivai took off at a dead sprint after him. Olivai wove in and out of the mass of people between them, keeping the young man - who was not handsome at all!- in sight. "Get back here!" She was gaining, always was quick on her feet. "I'm going to get you!" In the stories, the dashing mercenary always had something quippy to say when they took down the bad guy. She'd have to work on it. She was close now, less than a meter. The young man looked over his shoulder with fear in his eyes. Olivai lunged forward and took the thief by the middle. They both sprawled to the ground and Olivai's duffle when sliding across the floor. Olivai dove for the bag but the thief pushed her off course. The bag's zipper popped opened and it's content's spray across the terminal. The scuffle had opened a pocket of empty space around the pair, curious onlookers whispered to each other.

Olivai's eyes scanned the floor. Where is it? She thought. I can't leave without- There! On the ground, a pistol, her father's sidearm when he fought in the restoration, Olivai went for the gun just as the thief scrambled for the bag and darted away. Olivai watched him leave, breathing heavy and cradling the sidearm in her hands.

"Departure warning, for the Golden Hand. All hands aboard the leopard."

"No!" Olivai cursed and dashed back the way she came, holding the gun to her chest.

When Olivai made it back to Pad six, the industrialmechs were all loaded up on the dropship and the Centurion was gone as well, only a handful of people were still on the pad. Two groups, really, now that she got closer, a trio of well dressed, if plain, people that looked the mercenary part perfectly, and a man and a woman in peerless fashionable clothing. She in red trousers with a short coat, and he in green. The woman had long, dark hair down past her shoulders and carried herself like she had an army behind her. There was an obvious division between the two groups. They did not like each other.

Olivai ran for the small group, waving her hands. "Wait!" She called out. "I need to come aboard!" One of the trio, a tall, solidly built woman with messy red hair turned towards her, and suddenly Olivai was face down on the ground, with spots in her eyes, a ringing in her head, and her right arm ratcheted up behind her so far she feared it would pop free.

The two mercenaries had barely reacted, trusting this… this… ogre of a woman to take care of the threat. The man in green had forced himself between the woman in red and Olivai, despite being obviously terrified. The woman just rolled her eyes and shouldered past him. "I appreciate your concern, Husband, but one lone girl is hardly a threat."

"She's armed," Olivai's tormenter said conversationally. Digging out the pistol from under her and tossing it to the mercenary in the centre of the trio. A very ordinary looking man. Not short, not tall. Not especially handsome or ugly. Plain clothing and the bearing of an office worker in his forties.

"That's mine!" Olivai said hotly, struggling against hands as giving as an iron bar while the man now holding her pistol looked at it.

"It's one of yours," He said, handing over the weapon to the dark-haired woman. "You piss off one of your veterans Kamea?"

Olivai gasped. Kamea Arano, High Lady of House Arano and the Aurigan Reach, the Sword of Restoration kneeled to look Olivai in the eyes. "Not to my knowledge," she said in a smooth tenor. Her gaze was firm, her brown eyes held the strength of a landslide. "Where did you get this, Child?" She held the pistol easily in her hands, hands familiar with weapons.

"My father gave it to me," Olivai said stubbornly, trying to act as though she wasn't rather short of breath from the giant standing on her back. "I didn't want to attack you. I just want to be part of the Golden Hand."

A smile flickered across High-Lady Arano's lips. "Let her up, Behemoth," she said easily.

"Stop ordering my crew around, Kamea." The centre man said hotly.

"That's High-Lady Arano, to you!" The man in green snapped. Neither the Lady or the mercenary seemed to notice. Behemoth looked at both of them and stood, lifting Olivai up to stand as if she were a small child.

"If you wish me to stop giving orders in my own sovereign state," Lady Arano started cooly. "You will have a very long wait ahead of you, Saytr." Olivai stared at the man in the middle. Saytr, that was the callsign of the Golden Hand's commander and the best, most amazing Mechwarrior in the galaxy-

Olivai blushed. All the thoughts and images she'd ever had about the man tumbled through her head all at once.

"You want to be part of my crew?" Saytr said. Looking her up and down.

"Yes," Olivai said, slightly breathless. "I've been studying all your battles and I can tell you everything you want to know about any mech in your company. I've run every simulation in the galaxy and I'll be the best, most dedicated MechWarrior-"

"No." the sharp response stopped Olivai so quick she feared she'd give herself whiplash.

Fear and anxiety crushed her heart. Olivai fought to keep her face steady. It was difficult. "You… you don't want to think about it for a minute?"

Saytr shrugged, "Not really. I've got enough mechwarriors."

"Ok…" Olivai said, numb. "I'll just… I don't know what…" every eye was on her. "I don't have anywhere else to go." Her fingers tightened around the pistol until her knuckles were white.

"What about your family?" Behemoth said gruffly.

Olivai just shook her head.

The burly Mechwarrior scratched the back of her head. "Oh, sorry."

The Lady Arano put an arm around Olivai. "I'm sure I can find you someplace to work. Don't worry, child."

The world blurred behind fat, watery tears. "Th-thank you, m-m-my lady" The man in green, Lady Arano's Concordant Husband scoffed. Muttering something about "peasant girls"

The third mercenary, a slight woman of dark complexion who'd been quiet the whole time, muttered something about being polite.

"No stabbing, Glitch," Saytr said absently. The commander of the Golden Hand put and hand on Olivai's shoulder, looking her deep in the eyes they were dark, almost black. The broadcasts had never mentioned that. "I'm sorry, but there's simply no place for you on the Argo," he said, like a bullet to the chest. "But Kamea is a good person, and kind. You'll be safe with her." Saytr opened his mouth to continue, but the words were lost in an enormous explosion and repeating gunfire.

Olivai's world spun. A sharp ringing filled her head as she pushed herself up from her new position on the ground. Wobbling on her knees, she watched, wondering idly why people were running in every direction. There was no sound, what were they afraid of? Behemoth barreled into her, carrying them both to the ground behind a large crate. "Get down, Kid!" she bellowed in Olivai's ear.

"What's happening?" Olivai mumbled thickly.

Behemoth seized both of her shoulders and shook her. "We are under attack!"

Olivai shook her head and looked around. The pad was a battlefield. A dozen armed and black armoured men advanced onto the pad, assault rifles raised and firing, keeping the mercenaries pinned down behind a smattering of boxes left on the pad. As another group advanced on Lady Arano and her husband. Both were safe for the moment, covered behind a large crate of their own, but they were separated from the mercs. And quickly being closed in on. The Lady Arano looked like a queen on the battlefield. Confidently firing out from cover with a weighty handcannon. Her husband was less composed, taking blind shots made even less accurate from the shaking that was visible from Olivai's position.

"What do we do?" Olivai asked.

Behemoth thrust Olivai's father's pistol into her hands. "First step to being a Mechwarrior, fight."

Olivai looked at the pistol in her hands. "I- I don't have any ammunition," she said, feeling very small indeed. Behemoth sighed, then looked down their line at Glitch, who was gleefully firing back at the advancing enemy alongside Saytr.

"Glitch! .75 Restoration standard!" The slight woman didn't even look away from the fight as she fished a magazine out of a pocket and flung it through the air towards Behemoth. The red-haired Mechwarrior caught the ammo and handed it over.

"Now. Fight."

Olivai swallowed, took the magazine and shakily slotted it into her pistol. She nodded.

Behemoth drew her own sidearm. "This your first firefight?" Olivai nodded. "Now, first thing to know is-"

Olivai peeked over the edge of their crate and fired at the oncoming soldiers. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM. CLICK CLICK CLICK.

Behemoth sighed, "... don't fire blindly and waste the only ammunition you have." She finished, though it clearly wasn't going to be her original sentiment. "Second thing you need to know is that you have to play to your strengths." Behemoth peeked out herself and grinned. "Take me, for instance. I'm not much of a gunslinger-" A black armoured soldier rounded the corner, his assault rifle levelled at them. Olivai jumped and nearly screamed. She was going to die without ever even getting in a mech, she was going to-

Behemoth smacked the rifle away and, in quick succession, drove three anvil-like blows into the soldier's throat, side, and groin. The black armoured man grunted once and fell.

Behemoth slid the man's rifle over to Olivai. "I'm more of a brawler," she said with a breathless grin, snugging up the pair of what appeared to be high-tech knuckle dusters. "Now when I say, I want you to fire at the bad guys to cover me while I move."

"You're leaving me?" Olivai said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. Behemoth nodded.

"I saw you go after that little thief when you first got here." Behemoth grinned. "You've got the stuff. Trust me." Olivai nodded. She didn't trust her voice not to crack. The rifle in her hands was heavy, much heavier than her father's weapon. It was… meaner. Behemoth set herself like a runner beginning a race. "Now!"

Olivai stood up and brought the muzzle of the weapon towards the enemies, they hadn't come closer, after seeing what had happened to their comrade. Olivai pulled the trigger and tried to keep the weapon from bouncing out of her hands. Their attacker's armour was thick, but the surprise made them stop firing and raise their hands as if she were throwing rocks. Their eyes found her from behind their all-encompassing helmets and Olivai gulped. "Oh shit."

Olivai ducked just in time to avoid a barrage of gunfire that shredded the space her head had occupied a moment earlier. By the time she caught her bearings, Behemoth had already left her, she slammed her back against the crates that her fellows hid behind and was talking animatedly to them. The Gunfire stopped. Across the gap, Saytr spoke quietly to Glitch, who nodded and slunk around the crate and out of sight.

"Lady Arano!" a rough voice, slightly muffled, called out into the landing pad. "My employer wants you to know something."

"What would that be?" Lady Arano said, only a touch breathless

"This is not a coup." The voice replied. "That this is not an attack on the Arano house or the Reach. This is for you alone. You are not safe, you will never be again."

"Is that all?" Lady Arano's smooth tenor held no trace of fear. It was hard, the voice of a leader.

"It is. Now please make this easy and let us kill you."

"I think not," Arano said. However, as she did so she swept out from behind cover.

"No!" Olivai whispered she looked around wildly for something, anything to help.

"I am the High Seat of House Arano, I will not be bullied in my own capital, mercenary." She stared down the squad of heavily armed mercenaries as if her red silk coat and trousers were battlemech armour. "Better men, better women, have tried and failed. Take your shot." Lady Arano spread her arms and glared at the black armoured man.

The mercenary smirked. "It's a wonder you lived this long. Lady Arano." He made the title seem like an insult. "Goodbye." He raised his rifle-

And was squished flat by 50 tonnes of Centurion mech.

"Yeah!" Glitch's sharp voice blasted out into the landing pad through speakers. "This is for ruining my spa day!"

The Centurion stomped around the pad, catching the rest of their attackers under its feet or making them flee in terror.

Olivai peeked out from behind the crate. "Is it safe?"

Behemoth jogged over to her with a smile. "As it ever is." She offered a hand and Olivai took it, getting hauled up to her feet by the bigger woman. "You did good, considering."

Olivai smiled and scuffed her feet. "Thanks, Behemoth." In the background, Glitch made her Centurion dance robotically over the smeared remains of their attackers. "Is she always like that?" Olivai asked, nodding to Glitch. "I've heard the Hand's sharpshooter was a little strange but…"

"Oh yeah, Glitch is nuts." Behemoth said, nodding. "Don't ever cross her."

"What the hell were you thinking, Kamea?!" Saytr shouted, storming over to the lord and lady. "Has living in that palace rotted your brain?"

"Watch your tone, commoner." Lady Arano's Husband stepped up between his wife and Saytr.

"Not a commoner, Jackass." Saytr didn't spare the Taurian lord a second, pushing past him to glare at the High Lady. "What if he hadn't talked? He could have just shot you and walked away! You're supposed to be a bloody queen! How are you going to lead your people when you're full of holes from every upstart hit squad that comes your way?"

Lady Arano arched a single eyebrow at Saytr. "I trusted my valued mercenaries to protect me, as you have done many times before." Saytr almost said something but clicked his teeth shut sharply.

"It was an honour to serve, My Lady." Saytr said through clenched teeth. "I wish you, and your...fine husband all the best, and many healthy children."

He bowed, stiffly. And strode away into the leopard. "Someone get Glitch to stop committing crimes against Humanity!" He roared into the bay. The centurion stopped dancing and walked back into the leopard's mech bay.

Lady Arano watched Saytr go. Her Husband said something that Olivai didn't hear, then they both turned to leave.

A shallow BOOM drew Olivai's eyes to the palace that overlooked the city. It shattered, broken and enveloped in a rising ball of fire. A voice, thick with electronic distortion, shouted through the city from unseen speakers.

"You are not safe, KAMEA. Wherever you go I will find you."

The landing pad was silent, distant screams, whether from pain or terror wasn't clear, but they rang clear in the air. Olivai watched Lady Arano's face flash through a quick series of emotion. Shock, fear, pain, anger. Then it all faded into a mask of determination and strength. She calmly began marching towards the pad's exit, to her palace.

Saytr stormed out of the leopard and over to Kamea. "You're hiring me." He said, seizing her by the arm and dragging her towards the dropship.

"I am not leaving!" The lady shouted, pushing herself free and standing firm. "My people need me! I cannot abandon them now!" Saytr glared at The High Lady, as if trying to decide if he could pick her up and haul her away himself.

'Remember what that mercenary said." The husband's voice broke through both the Lady's and Saytr's attention. "This isn't an attack on the Coalition, it's an attack on you, Kamea. I can govern here, and you can publically pass orders to be from a safe location." The lady looked thoughtful. "There's nowhere safer than the Golden Hand's ship." The Taurian man didn't look like he like it, however much he knew it to be true. "You will be safe there."

The high Lady Kamea Arano looked up at her Husband, warmly. "Be safe, Karadin."

"Safer than you, surely," Karadin said, just as warmly. He traced his thumb down the side of his wife's face. "Hurry back, my mother has been asking about grandchildren again."

"Yes," Lady Arano said, only slightly stiffly. "Of course. I will be back as soon as I can, my love." She reached up and kissed Karadin.

Behind them both. Saytr gagged, holding his stomach comically.

"Alright," Saytr said, straightening. "Let's get off this rock asap, Kamea."

"Haul ass, you two." Saytr waved at Olivai and Behemoth as he walked into the Leopard's cargo bay.

Olivai watched mutedly as everyone walked onto the dropship ramp. Behemoth turned and waved her. "Come on, kiddo." She said. "You had a hell of an audition. Welcome to the Golden Hand."


	2. Chapter 2

Alright, I'm going to apologise right off the bat here. First, I'm not super confident in my background knowledge of the Battletech world, so If I mess anything up I'm sorry. Second, this has been a guilty pleasure project, but I really need to work on projects that might actually be successful and/or profitable. So I won't be able to spend much time on this, as fun as it is. In any case, I hope all those reading this enjoy it and review to your heart's content.

* * *

The Ride up to the Argo was… uncomfortable, and not just physically, the leopard bumped and jostled the whole lot of them the whole way up. Not only was her bottom a mass of bruises, but the tension in the dropship's air could have been carved with a spoon.

Saytr and The High Lady sat on opposite sides of the small crew seating room. Neither ever seemed to be looking in the other's direction while the other could see. Olivai sat in the centre of the room, strapped in with a rig of padded steel bars that held her shoulders tight to the cushioned seat. Olivai didn't know how Behemoth knew of her discomfort, Olivai was sure she'd kept her face perfectly smooth. Behemoth laughed, sitting beside her.

"First time flying?"

Olivai shook her head. The ship bounced in the upper atmosphere and her head rattled between the bars. She'd had to hop across half the Reach to get to Coromodir. "It's n-n-never been this r-r-rough be-e-efo-ore-e".

Behemoth threw her head back and laughed, her red hair swirling. the ride smoothed out considerably. "She's not a commercial liner, but she gets the job done."

Glitch snorted on Olivai's other side. "Better than the Federated Suns Prison ships, let me tell you."

Olivai looked at Glitch, The senior members of the Golden Hand were all rather mysterious figures, very little was known about any of them before they appeared in the Restoration War. Olivai looked back at Behemoth questioningly and the larger woman shook her head slightly. Don't ask.

"Preparing docking procedures." A smooth voice, a man's, rang metallically through the dropship's PA.

"Sumire isn't piloting?" Olivai asked, looking around. "I thought she did all the piloting around here?"

"Sumire isn't flying these days." Glitch said matter of factly. "She wants to, but none of us will let her in her condition."

"Something happened to her? What?" Olivai looked around, slightly frantic, Sumire Meyer is one of the best pilots around, Olivai had considered becoming a pilot after seeing a holovid of the Hand's dropship expertly pick up a lance during a firefight.

Glitch opened her mouth to continue, but Behemoth reached over and clamped her hand over Glitch's mouth.

"What did we say about telling other people's secrets?"

"Zhhad eyae shoodn dho et?" Glitch said behind behemoth's hand, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Exactly" Behemoth withdrew her hand quickly, evidently expecting the bite that followed. Glitch rubbed her chin and worked her jaw in circles.

"Sumire is fine." Behemoth said flatly. "Just taking some time off."

Olivai didn't need anyone to shake their head at her to know not to pursue that avenue of discussion.

A leaden silence settled over the room as the final docking procedures were carried out with military precision. Whoever they'd gotten to replace Sumire was good.

As soon as a deep Kachunk echoed through the hull of the dropship, Saytr was on his feet and striding purposefully through the airlock into the Argo and disappearing with only a "report to Yang, in the mech bay, girl," to Olivai as he walked by.

"I know where Yang would be…" Olivai muttered, working on getting her safety cage to unlatch. Glitch was standing, stretching up on her tiptoes and Behemoth unlatched hers with one quick motion, a single punch to the centre of the rig. When Olivai tried nothing happened. One by one the other filed out, leaving her behind. "Behemoth?" Olivai called out, but the red-haired woman was already gone. Sweat popped out on her forehead and anxiety bloomed in her belly. A tide of heat flooded her cheeks as she continued to struggle with the latch.

"Would you like some help?"

Olivai looked up to see High-Lady Kamea Arano look down at her with a warm expression.

"Oh! Uh, your Majesty! N-No, I'm just…" She tried to look casual, as if she was exactly where she wished to be, a performance she was sure was ruined by the intense heat pouring into her face. Had they turned up the furnace?

"Lady Arano is fine," The Lady said, reaching out to press on the exact same spot Olivai had been pounding on for the last several minutes. "There is a particular trick to this old tub's rigs," she said. "You just have to press the right place and-"

The rig popped up off Olivai and she leapt to stand, breathing heavy. Olivai glanced at her saviour. Her eyes widened, she was meeting a High-Lady's eyes! Olivai hurriedly bowed, bending nearly double. "Thank you, My Lady!"

A pair of smooth hands. Smooth, but strong. Grasped Olivai's shoulders and guided her to stand straight.

"I will accept nothing from you." Lady Arano said. "You saved my life back on Coromidir,"

Olivai shifted her feet, looking down. "I didn't do much, didn't even take anyone down."

"Never be ashamed of not killing someone." Lady Arano's eyes held a smouldering, earthen flame behind them. "Death and killing are facts of life on the periphery, but to trivialize it, or glorify it, is a mistake." Something else glimmered behind those eyes now. Regret? Pain? Olivai couldn't believe either could exist in such a woman.

"Yes, my Lady." Olivai made to bow again but Lady Arano caught her.

"That's enough of the bowing. We're not in court. If you bow every time you see me you're likely to strike your skull off the bulkheads." Lady Arano said wryly. "Come, let us enter the Argo proper." Lady Arano gestured for Olivai to lead, and Olivai took a few hesitant steps. Her hands seized around the plain pistol.

 _Ca-lack_. Her boot on the deck. She was there, on the Argo. A ship of legend.

It was quite plain looking, actually. Lady Arano stepped passed her and smiled. "Until we meet again, Olivai." Olivai watched the shorter woman, disappear down the left hallway. It was hard to realize a woman so powerful was actually quite short, she carried herself like she could look down on anyone around her.

Olivai looked around her, in awe. The halls were stark, plain metal, they didn't look at all like they belonged on a Lostech ship that had turned the tide of a war. Right, Olivai thought, the Mech bay. Olivai looked, left, down a nondescript hall, then right, down another equally nondescript hall.

"...crap."

Olivai walked through the Argo, head swivelling, trying to look in every direction at once. The crew was surprisingly sparse for a ship this size. In over an hour of searching, she only saw a handful of engineers and deckhands. Most were on duty, heads in their work or moving with such purpose that Olivai dared not bother them, but when she passed the library she saw maybe half a dozen men women sitting reading. The Games room was empty, and Olivai didn't go into the pool, but as she passed the closed door, she did hear someone, a female someone, giggle, followed by a distinctly masculine chuckle from. Olivai's mouth opened slightly in mild shock as she heard the next few moments that were going on inside the pool. When she heard another, definitely different, masculine voice mutter something, embarrassment fueled her steps to quickly take Olivai far away from the low gravity pool.

An exasperated voice came on over the PA system. "If anyone sees a girl wandering around the ship. Point her to the mech bay." Olivai looked around to see if someone would point her in the right direction, there was nobody. The pool was occupied, but the idea of interrupting to ask directions was... **unthinkable**.

"You're the newbie?" a caramel smooth voice asked.

"Ye- Olivai whipped around to see an olive-skinned, slender man with long, dark hair and her words faded. The young man before her was likely the most attractive man she had ever met.

"I'm Caius," the young man stuck out a smooth, perfect hand, apparently oblivious of his effect.

Olivai took the hand without thought. "Olivai…" she said absently. How could eyes be that blue? They were like sapphires wrapped in a brilliant summer sky...

"Hello?" Caius said, ducking to get into her line of sight. "I can take you to the mech bay if you'd like."

"Hm?" Olivai shook her head out of wherever it was. "Yes, you can take me." Her breath caught and she blushed furiously. "I-I-I mean I do need to go to the mech bay, yes." She cleared her throat. "Please."

Caius smiled a distracting smile and walked down the hall, thankfully away from the pool.

"So, uh, what do you do, Caius?" Olivai asked, trying to sound casual.

"I'm the pilot for the Leopard, now that Sumire is out of action."

"Oh, you were flying us up from Coromidir?" Olivai twirled a lock of short hair around her finger. "It was a very smooth ride." Father had always said there was a very thin line between flattery and dishonesty.

Caius smiled but didn't respond. The rest of the walk was spent in relative silence, with Olivai sneaking glances over at Caius whenever she thought he wasn't looking. Once he noticed her and his smile made Olivai swallow.

"Here we are," Caius said stopping in front of a large hatch that looked more at home in an industrial plant than a lostech ship. "Just head in and Chief Virtanen will take care of you."

"Thank you," Olivai said quietly. Caius just smiled that smile and took off. Walking in a way that made it seem like he was dancing.

"This is it." Olivai looked up at the door to the mech bay. The beginning of her new life _. I wonder what my first mech will be?_ She stepped up to the door and it opened with a heavy _Kchnk_. A centurion? Orion? Maybe even an assault!

Olivai stepped into a giant room, plain steel made the floor and walls, and the ceiling rose high enough to overtop the tallest mech by half again it's height. A cacophony of sound and light blasted her, men and women shouting to each other over the din of welding, hammering, and the general upkeep necessary to maintain Battlemechs. Bright flashes of light glared at her from multiple directions as mechs were worked on. Olivai looked on in wonder.

"You!" Someone shouting drew her eyes as an ageing man with a prosthetic arm marched at her with a finger thrust at her like a weapon. "What are you doing wandering about my mech deck?" He flung a pair of coveralls at her without stopping his forced march. "I have seven things that need doing, and babysitting an airhead ain't one of them!"

Olivai caught the coveralls and opened her mouth to introduce herself-

"Nope, no time," Yang said, for it was Yang Virtanen, chief mechtech of the Golden Hand. Yang wrapped a hand around Olivai's shoulders and drew her down the mech deck until they stood in front of a Centurion, a heavy AC/10 ladened the right arm alongside a pair of medium lasers and Short Range Missiles on the torso, this close it was clear. This was the very same Centurion that saved her and the others on Coromidir.

Olivai looked up at Yang. "This is mine?"

Yang nodded. "It sure is. Your name?"

"Olivai."

Yang handed her a heavy hose. "That's Oli now, best get used to it." He said. "Now I need this cleaned in the next hour."

Olivai blinked, Oli? Cleaned? "Mechwarriors don't have to clean their mechs, do they?"

Yang grunted, "try and get those hotheads to do real work?" he shook his head and pointed to the coveralls. "Best put those on before you start, Glitch really ground that meat into the treads. Messy work, getting it out."

"But I'm… I'm supposed to be…"

Yang was already gone, shouting at someone that "just because you're an idiot doesn't mean you have to act like it."

Olivai glared at the coveralls in one hand and the hose in the other. "I didn't come all this way to be a mechtech grunt," she told herself. Olivai drew herself up. She was going to march up to Commander Saytr and demand that she be inducted as a Mechwarrior right this-

"Hey!" Yang bellowed down at her from a scaffold, halfway up the mech deck's walls. "57 minutes!"

"Yes, Chief!" Olivai said hurriedly, jamming her boots into the coveralls and hefting the hose.

She could go to Commander Saytr after she finished her work, she wanted to make a good impression on Yang, after all.

Olivai dropped the hose to the deck with a clunk and stepped back from the centurion, it's feet now… finally… clean. Yang appeared at her side, his metal hand on her shoulder.

"Good work," he said. He leaned over to the smaller mechbay terminal and pushed a button. With a mechanical whirl and grind, the Centurion was raised up ten feet off the deck, so the bottom of its feet, still caked with...remains… was accessible. "A good start, anyway," he said. "Back at it, Oli." He said loudly, marching off to the rest of his duties.

"Uhhhhgh" Olivai's head dropped back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Olivai gasped, on the scaffolds above her, Saytr, Commander Uriel, marched along, head together with a dark-skinned man, Darius Oliveira, Olivai assumed. She opened her mouth to call to him-

"What have you done to it?!" Lady-Arano's voice pounded through the Mech Deck, silencing the entire workforce.

"I'm sorry?" Saytr said, his voice clear in the new quiet. "To what are you referring?"

"My Atlas, you've ruined it!" Arano said stubbornly.

"You mean my Atlas? The one you gave me?" Satyr clarified. "The 'mech I own and am free to do with what I wish?"

"That 'mech is priceless lostech" Lady Arano snapped, "It did not need any alterations"

"That thing cooked anyone who so much as thought of fighting in it!" Saytr snapped back. "I need mech's that can operate wherever I need them, Which means mounting weapons that don't give my mechwarriors heatstroke every deployment!"

"Glad to see you're still quick to discard that which isn't perfectly useful to you at the moment." Lady Arano said acidly. "Some things haven't changed." Everyone had long since stopped working to stare up at the pair.

Saytr didn't shout this time, but the silence in the Mechdeck was so complete his voice carried to every ear. "I'm not the one with a habit of throwing your things away." His eyes were sad, downcast. Lady Arano didn't seem to have anything to say to that. She turned on her heel and marched away.

Saytr seemed to look down from the scaffold at Olivai, and she heard Yang cleared his throat beside her. She hadn't noticed the Chief mechtech standing beside her, just as transfixed as the rest of them.

"Alright everybody, Back to work!" He barked. The cacophony resumed, but now a little warier. If you could wield a 30-pound sledgehammer while on eggshells, these mechtechs were the ones to do it.

"Oli," Yang said.

"Yes, Chief." Olivai picked the hose back up and grimly set to work.

"Uhhhhhhghhh," All the air wanted to leave Olivai at once as she collapsed on the couch in the Argo's expansive lounge. The lounge was slowly filling as the day shift all finished their duties. It felt like that air had been the only thing keeping Olivai upright. Her arms and legs were jelly, and she knew for a fact that she had drunk more water in the last hours than she had in the previous week, and not once had she had to use the bathroom. It seemed sweat was now her body's preferred method of removing water.

"Long day?" Behemoth flopped down on the couch beside her, looking disgustingly refreshed, with bright, clean skin and soft, brushed hair. Olivai cracked one eye open, a titanic effort, her eyelids seemed to be made of lead. "I didn't know that much work existed…" She mumbled. With a groan like an ageing pensioner with a bad back, Olivai hoisted herself to sit upright and immediately braced her elbows on her knees, holding her head up. "Behemoth, you have to tell Commander Uriel that I'm supposed to be a Mechwarrior," She said. "I'm not cut out to be a mech tech."

Behemoth arched an eyebrow at her. "You think Adris is going to entrust a multi-million C-bill machine to an untrained civilian he's met once?"

Olivai looked side to side warily. "...yes?" She said hopefully.

"He's not."

"Dammit" Olivai flopped back onto the couch, feeling very much like a balloon after it's stuck with a needle, or smashed repeatedly with a hammer.

"Look," Behemoth started, shifting on the couch so she looked Olivai straight in the eyes. "Almost all our mechwarriors started at the bottom. Either as a mechtech assistant, or a foot grunt, or something. He's not going to trust you until he knows how you react to stress and an overwhelming workload." Olivai listened. "The quickest way for you to get in the cockpit is to work your ass off in the mechbay and prove that you're worth taking seriously. And impress Yang," She chuckled lowly. "Which, unfortunately for you, isn't easy."

Olivai drew a deep breath, trying to inflate herself. "Thank you." she hissed through the fatigue. Olivai looked around and notice that the other personnel were avoiding them. A small bubble of space surrounded them. Most didn't look at either of them, and those that she caught could only be described as wary.

"Is something wrong with this couch?" Olivai pitched her voice low. "Everybody seems to be avoiding it."

Behemoth looked around with a wry look. "The couch is fine," she said, before ruefully adding. "I am not, generally, considered good company." She grinned and more than one of their onlookers flinched away.

"You seem ok to me," Olivai said, smiling.

"That's nice." Behemoth sounded like she was humouring a child. "But that's probably because I haven't punched you yet"

"Why would you punch me?"

Behemoth shrugged. "It usually happens for one reason or another," a lopsided grin gave her a wild look. "They always deserve it, though." Behemoth flopped down beside her. "You staying for the movie?" She asked.

"I think I need to sleep, for a week," Olivai said, rolling off the couch and staggering to her feet. She caught a whiff of herself. "And three showers," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, you're pretty ripe," Behemoth waved her hand in front of her nose. "See ya, kid."

Olivai looked back at the lounge as she left. Behemoth remained alone on the couch. Lounging at her ease and completely uncaring of the air of unease around her.

Olivai walked through Alpha pod's hallways. Only a little lost, she knew that the crew quarters were in Alpha, just not exactly where in Alpha. Olivai turned a corner and was greeted with yet another hallway. She sighed and walked down it. It was short and ended with another hall running perpendicular. This hall was different, though. The walls were decorated with nearly a dozen small, black plaques that each bore two lines of script. Olivai stopped and read one. "Mohammed Benitez" then under it "Medusa". Olivai's fingers traced the second name, she recognized that one, it had been broadcast in a ceremony for the dead during the Restoration War.

"I see you've found our little hall of the dead." a man's voice interrupted Olivai's thoughts. She turned to see a pale, bald man with a beard limp towards her. The man stuck out a hand. "Amir Kowalski, but you might know me better as Dekker," he grinned as Olivai took his hand and shook it vigorously. "So you're Miranda's foundling?"

"Olivai," she said, only a touch breathless. She blinked. "Miranda?"

"Behemoth," Dekker said with a smirk. "But do yourself a favour and never say her name to her face." He thought for a moment. "Or her back, or side… anywhere in reach of her fists, really."

"She did say she was probably going to punch me," Olivai said with a small laugh.

"She likely will." Dekker said honestly, rubbed a spot on the side of his jaw in memory. "And you'll probably deserve it." He chuckled.

"She said that too."

"Did she?" Dekker's eyes took on an appraising glint as he looked her over. "Hm, I guess I can see it."

Olivai didn't have the foggiest idea on what he was talking about, but before she could ask, Dekker was already moving, limping passed her and pressing his fist onto Medusa's plaque as he went. "I just came by to say goodnight on my walk. Can't move it too well and she seizes right up if I don't take it for a spin." He rapped his knuckles on his right leg and it produced the unmistakable sound of metal muffled by cloth. "Lost more than a friend on Smithson." He waved behind him as he limped.

Smithson. The name burned in her memory. A line of 'mech standing between Directorate forces and their fragile ship. Rockets screaming, metal tearing-

"Oh." Dekker's voice jolted her out of her reverie. "If you're looking for the crew quarters, they're that way." He pointed the way he came. "On the other side of the mess."

Olivai raised a shaky hand. "Thanks," she said, turning to walk away, her mind awhirl. Medusa's plaque stared at her as she left the quiet hallway.

Olivai walked through the now quiet mess, dark and silent. Or it would have been.

"Ooooh, yeah, that's the stuff." A woman's voice, heavy with desire, filtered in through the kitchen doors. Olivai froze, heat rising to her cheeks. Was this place full of deviants?

"Just a little more…" Curiosity coloured her face further and Olivai took a step closer to the kitchen. She was a grown woman, after all, these things were normal, natural, even.

"Oh, yesssss, that's perfect."

Olivai inched the door open, carefully, quietly. She hesitantly peaked around the corner. Her eyes ready to snap shut in an instant.

A woman, fully clothed, thankfully, sat on one of the kitchen work tables, her belly rounded with a late pregnancy. To one side of her was an open jar of pickles, the other, peanut butter and chilli paste. Sumire Meyer gratefully, blissfully even, munched on her improvised late night snack, her eyes closed and her head tilted back.

"You're pregnant!" Olivai clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as the words left her mouth.

Sumire snapped her head down, fixing Olivai with an embarrassed glare. "What? Yes, of course." She looked around. "Just don't tell-"

"Sumire…" the navigator closed her eyes with a sigh as Darius stepped into the kitchen behind Olivai, who jumped. How did someone so big move so quietly?

"Hey!" Sumire snapped before Darius could get another word in. "I know I said I needed to watched what I ate, and I know we agreed that I'd follow the doctor's recommendations, and I know I said I would avoid eating after the day cycle." Sumire hopped down from the table and marched - well, tottered - over to Darius. "But you did this to me and it's all these hormones and not my fault so I expect you to take responsibility, dammit!" She finished her tirade standing nose to nose, or rather nose to chin, with Darius, pointing up at him with an accusatory finger.

Darius looked at Sumire, then over at the table with the pickles, peanut butter and chilli paste, then at Olivai, who waved, and finally back to Sumire.

A wide smile split his face to show sparkling teeth "Gods, I love you." He said. He laughed and pulled Sumire into an enveloping hug. Sumire wrapped her arms under his and squeezed him tight. Her own laughter bubbling up. The pair stood, wrapped in each other, laughing until Darius looked over at Olivai. "I apologise for my wife." He said richly. "You're Yang's newest, right? Oli?"

"Olivai," Olivai said, unable to keep a beaming smile from her face as she watched the couple. "You two look so cute together." She gushed finally.

"So I hear." Darius laughed. He extricated himself from Sumire and scooped up the ingredients from the table. "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a buffet to assemble. Goodnight, Oli" The two walked into the mess.

"It's Olivai…" She said into the now empty kitchen.

By the time Olivai stumbled into the crew quarters, all the beds were bunk bed style, in a cubicle with two lockers, it was well into the second shift, the night shift. The Argo runs 24 hours a day, and in the deep of space day and night mean little. Olivai eyed the communal shower room, nothing but showerheads on the walls, but her bed helpfully marked out with her name, called to her. She looked at the name, "Oli". She sighed and made a note to find a pen and add the rest later. For now, she only wanted one thing.

Olivai's sigh when she hit her mattress was completely different than the one from her misnaming. She only had the vaguest sensations of deflating before sleep rolled over her and the world fled into black.

The next morning, far, far too early, Olivai scurried out of the showers, wrapped securely in a towel that covered her from shoulders to knees, with a wide-eyed, stricken look of someone gone through a terrible ordeal. Olivai had not realised that the crew quarters were co-ed, which meant the communal showers were even more harrowing than she expected. Olivai flinched and kept her eyes looking anywhere but down as a young man padded out of the showers after her, completely at his ease. Heat suffused her face and Olivai hurried to her locker. She was in her work gear, heavy steel-toes and mechtech coveralls, and out of her quarters in a fraction of the time it normally took her to ready for the day. She marched out of the quarters, pulling her hair back into a short tail it was just long enough for.

Olivai walked into the mechbay right on time. The immense machines looming over her still made her feel tiny, but there was less of a sense of wonder than yesterday. Olivai had to suppress a wave of revulsion as she passed the Centurion, now utterly, **perfectly** clean. A small group of mechtechs sat in a semicircle around Chief, as Yang insisted they call him, and a screen showing a mech layout. Olivai sat next to a grizzled man, a few years older than herself. His long hair, surely longer than hers, was pulled back into a lazy bun, and he scratched noisily at what looked like a four-day beard as he pulled heavily on a large coffee mug, tiredly looking at Chief with half-lidded eyes.

"Hi," Olivai started, extending a hand. "I'm-"

"Oli," the man mumbled, nodding. "Chief told us."

"Olivai…" Her hand closed into a fist and her teeth clenched. What was so hard about an extra syllable? Olivai forced a smiled. "You are?"

The man pointed with the hand holding the coffee, "Listening."

"Alright, Shift Seven," Yang said. "In an hour we're going to be on our way into the Concordant. We've got a big contract and The Commander needs to refit for the mission." Yang turned to the screen and a pair of 'mechs, a King Crab and an Atlas, appeared.

"We're after an enemy lance in the polar region of a Concordant border world. "Commander wants to refit these two for maximum firepower. Heat will not be an issue, so we're remounting…" Olivai listened raptly, committing every detail to memory only sparing a glance for the man beside her. He didn't appear to be listening, he only blinked slowly and drank from his travel mug. Olivai frowned and returned to the briefing. She was going to show Saytr that she could be the best Mechtech they'd ever seen.

At the end of the briefing, Yang turned to Olivai. "Oli, training wheels are coming off, yesterday was an easy day for you, but today I'll have you shadowing a senior Mechtech so you can get a sense of how things are done." Olivai nodded sagely. Yang looked at the man beside her. "Mattias, you're her babysitter for the day." The grizzled man, Mattias, nodded mutely and stood. Olivai gaped, how was he a senior mechtech? He was barely older than she was! And obviously lazy to boot!

The work was backbreaking, Olivai found herself losing breath only a few hours into the day. Before they had even dismounted the Crab's weaponry. Who knew that mechtechs did so much work? It was even worse than the intense workload never once fazed Mattais. He quietly went about all their work with unchanging lack of intensity. Nothing was rushed, and everything was done when it was done. The King Crab was first, its dizzying array of weapons, centred around a pair of AC/10s and supported by a number of missile racks s and medium lasers, were to be replaced with two AC/20s, keeping the SRM6s and replacing the heatsinks with three extra tonnes of armour. The AC/10's were the first off. Mattias and Olivai sat on a pair of seats that hung from the Mechbay frame by long chains to work on the arms. Olivai hung over Matthias's shoulder and watched what he did. "First, secure the weapon," Mattias said. He used a small remote to manoeuvre a large magnetic clamp onto the arm. Once it was in place - a feat that took the man over twenty minutes! - Mattias lowered their seats to be level with the cannon. "Secure points are here, here, and here." Mattias' fingers roamed over the metal, pressing at three places. "But first, what comes next?" He looked over his shoulder at Olivai, looking like he hadn't slept in a week.

Olivai looked at the arm, frowning. "Well, we need to remove the armour so we can actually get at the interior." Olivai looked over and Mattias nodded. "Then we should…" she scratched her head.

"Ammo belts," Mattias said bluntly. "Don't want it exploding anything."

The obviousness of the answer burned. "Right." She said.

"Watch," was all Mattais said. He produced a welding torch from the seat and Olivai barely had time to place her goggles over her eyes before sparks began flying.

The armour panel was removed, carried up by another clamp once it was free of the mech. Mattias seized her chair and swung them both to the hole, close enough that they could stick their heads inside and see the 'mech's interior. He pointed out where the secure points were for the weapon, and the ammo belt that fed it from further up the arm.

Mattias showed her where the release for the belt was, and how to ratchet back the receiver for the massive rounds and return the remaining ammo in the belt to its cache. "Lasers are easier." He said, tiredly. He pointed to the secure points and pulled the cutting torch from her own seat. "Now you."

Olivai blinked, "You want me to cut it? Already?"

Mattias nodded.

"But I haven't had any training!" Olivai sputtered. "I can't do this, what if I cut the wrong thing and kills us? No, no no no it's better if you-" Mattias raised a finger to quiet her and pushed the torch into her hands.

"Like I showed you." He said. Olivai jumped as the torch clicked twice and a bright orange flame popped up around the nozzle. She tried not to hold it further away as Mattias turned a nozzle and the orange turned to virulent blue and the flame became a sharp spike of heat. Mattias made a cutting motion with his hand as if holding an imaginary knife. "Smooth. No hesitation."

 _The best Mechtech they've ever seen_. Olivai set her teeth and firmly brought the flame to the metal.

The Mess' food was not gourmet by any standard, but Olivai dug in gratefully. Food had never tasted better. Her arms shook as she brought a glass of water to her lips. That cutting torch didn't seem heavy at first, but 5 hours of keeping it in just the right position to cut took its toll. The rest of Shift seven sat around her, eating and laughing like old friends.

"So Oli, Hows the mute?" One man said. A woman beside her chortled into her food.

"The mute?" Olivai asked. "You mean Mattias?"

"Did he even say one word to you?" the man asked. Olivai looked down the table, where Mattias had gone, alone, upon seeing the majority of the Shift sit around Olivai.

"He said a few," olivai said with a small laugh. "He isn't very talkative, though, is he?" Olivai looked around at her shiftmates. "What's his problem?"

"Nobody knows," the woman who chortled said. "He's been here longer than any of us. And as you found out, he's not exactly the sharing type."

Olivai nodded. "Is he always this lazy?"

That sent a round of chuckles through the table. "I wouldn't call Mattias lazy." another man said. "It's more like he just does everything at the same pace." he tapped his lips thoughtfully. "I don't think I've ever seen him make a mistake, even a small one. It's just

'rush-job' isn't in his vocabulary."

Olivai looked over at Mattias. He finished his food, got up and walked back towards the Mech deck. By the time Olivai and the rest of the shift returned from break, Mattias was already in one of the hoists, working.

By the time Olivai finished the day, the King Crab had been stripped of less than half of its weapons and equipment. The mechanical work was slow but was lighting quick compared to the painstaking and delicate electricals, that had to be completely rewired for the new weaponry. Not to mention the software updates... Olivai didn't even bother going to the lounge after her shift. She stumbled straight to the crew quarters and into the shower to wash off the sweat and grime of the day is blessed near privacy. Only one shower was in use and thankfully it was was a woman. Olivai ran her fingers through her hair and dipped her head under the shower stream. She laughed inwardly at how happy she was to be showering with only one other woman in the room. _I'm too tired to be embarrassed_ , she thought. Weeks ago she wouldn't have even considered the possibility. _Everything is temporary_. It had one of her father's favourite sayings. She stripped off her coveralls and boots before climbing up to her bed on the top side, wearing a tank top and loose shorts.

As she closed her eyes, Olivai realized she hadn't seen Behemoth even once today. She idly wondered where she was but didn't get past the mere thought before sleep took her.

Olivai stood, back bent and held upright only by a knobby walking stick, in front of a centurion 'mech. Her white hair hung lank over her skull and her free hand held a cutting torch. Mattias, as young as ever and just as stoic, appeared beside her and pointed to the 'Mech.

"Remove the legs," he said, his voice cold and hard. "Learn to do it properly this time."

Olivai hobbled over to the mech and struggled to climb up onto the metal foot. It was hard to get purchase. Was it slippery?

Olivai looked down at the 'mech's foot and screamed. Blood slicked the metal like thick oil.

Glitch's voice boomed from the centurion,"You're next!" The foot rose and Olivai tumbled off onto the mech deck, her walking stick clattering away out of reach. Olivai struggled to stand, her legs couldn't seem to hold her. She turned over just in time to see the giant metal foot come down on her to stomp out the world.

Olivai jerked up out of her bed with a shriek. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath came in huge gulps; sweat slicked her tank top to her skin. Her fingers went to her face and found smooth, young skin.

It was a dream. Right, she had just finished her second full day aboard The Argo. She was young, and a mechtech assistant. She hadn't wasted her life yet.

"Shut up, Oli!" Someone moaned. "Sleep!" A pillow hit her in the face with a dull whumph.

"It's Olivai." Olivai snapped under her breath. She sighed and flopped back down on the bed.

She stared up at the ceiling for a long time before she swung her feet over the edge and slipped down. She slipped on a pair of off-duty pants and her "civie" shoes before slipping out of the crew quarters.

Olivai squinted as the harsh hallway light pounded on her pupils. The "night cycle" wasn't truly dark. Just a moniker for the opposite of the "day" cycle when the more important of the crew was awake and about. Olivai didn't really know where she was going, just that she was going. She passed the Library, a vast store of books and reading stations. A number of mechtechs she recognised sat in a group and we're going over something together, but most were strangers to her, but she could tell who was reading what. The fellow sitting stiffly at a desk with a pair of reading data-pads was surely going over a manual or something official. While the woman who sat with her legs tucked under her in a plush chair and a small smile was reading for a pure joy of it.

Olivai made a note to check if they had some of her favourite books, but later, she wasn't in the mood to read.

As she approached the games room, she decided she was looking to see if Behemoth was still up. She seemed the type to stay up late, and it would be nice to see her friend. That note struck her. A new friend? Just like that? She'd never been a popular girl in her youth. Not a pariah, but making friends had not been her strong suit. _It still isn't,_ she thought ruefully. But Behemoth was certainly her friend.

The games room had plenty of people in it. Plenty of loud people. But none of them was Behemoth. Olivai carried on, if she wasn't in the lounge, she must be asleep in her quarters. Olivai headed to the lounge, but stopped when she passed a room labelled "Simulation pods." She peaked in and found the room dark, and largely empty. One solitary pod was active, in the far corner. Its screens lit up and acting like a beacon.

"Godsdammit!" A muffled voice filtered out from the active pod. Olivai slipped into the room and headed to the active pod. Behemoth's face was displayed on the outside screen, alongside a screen that showed what was happening in the simulation, in real time, it seemed.

Behemoth was in a King Crab, fighting another King Crab that was in unfamiliar colours. The simulation was set in a small bowl valley, a pool of water in the middle. The Mechwarrior in the enemy 'mech spoke and Olivai gasped, she recognized that voice, she would anywhere.

Victoria Espinoza. Behemoth was fighting a simulated Victoria Espinoza.

Olivai watched as the two 100 tonne monsters battled it out. Brawling like a pair of wild beasts.

Espinoza's voice issued triumphantly. "I'll take you down Kamea, and your pretty mercenary too. Perhaps you will be **my** pet after this, Saytr after your current master is gone." Espinoza's mech got a lucky hit and blasted a hole in Behemoth's leg, the King Crab teetered, then fell. Olivai watched in horror as Victoria Espinoza mutely put an AC/20 round through the 'mech's cockpit.

Behemoth's boot crashed the pod's door open "Stupid, fuc-" she surged to her feet and slammed her fist into the wall. Olivai took a step back. "How did he do it?" She whispered.

"Was that Commander Saytr's simulation?" Olivai asked.

Behemoth snarled and spun around so quickly Olivai squeaked and took another step back.

The snarl dropped as fast as it appeared. "Olivai!" She said, clearing her throat. "I- uh - didn't see you there." Olivai was shocked to see red on Behemoth's face. Was she sick? "I'm sorry you saw that. I just get... frustrated when I can't figure out a problem." She sighed. "Yeah, it was. Adris was in the Crab during that mission, he took on Victoria" - she filled the name with scorn - "one on one. It was a hard fight."

"You weren't there?"

Another tide of red suffused Behemoth's face, she was definitely sick. Did she have a fever? She rubbed the back of her neck ruefully.

"I got laid up before this mission, spent it in the hospital," Behemoth said bitterly. "I lost friends on that mission, and I couldn't help them." Her laugh made her previous words seem summer sweet. "Turns out I couldn't have helped even if I **was** there."

"You can't compare yourself to commander Saytr," Olivai said firmly. "He's the best there is."

Behemoth laughed again, it held warmth this time. "You really see him like that, don't you?" Olivai frowned.

"Of course, that's how he is, right?" Behemoth's mirth burst out of her like a fountain, her head thrown back, filling the air.

"I really gotta take you and Adris drinking together, it will be… illuminating."

An idea bloomed in Olivai, it fueled a smiled that she was sure made her look an utter fool. "Can anyone use the simulators?"

Behemoth winced. "They're just for mech warriors, kiddo. Sorry."

"Oh…" the smiled died. How was she going to prove how good she could be?

Olivai didn't see the pain that flitted across Behemoth's face. She didn't see the conflict rage and battle to and fro. She only noticed when Behemoth sighed and made a decision. "Alright." She stared. "You can use my access pass-"

"Yes!" Olivai cried, leaping over to hug the woman. Olivai's head easily fit under the other woman's chin, she hadn't really noticed how tall she was, or how… solid she felt under her Mechwarrior gear. Behemoth pushed Olivai off her.

"Hold on!" She snapped. "I wasn't finished." She took a deep breath. "You can use my pass, but it's got to be done quietly. Deal?"

Olivai opened her mouth, already grinning as wide as humanly possible, but Behemoth put her finger to her lips. "Quietly." She reiterated.

Olivai snapped her mouth closed, it still twitched in attempts at a smile, and nodded. Olivai flung herself at Behemoth again in a tight embrace.

Held tight under her chin, Olivai didn't see a second thing. As Behemoth carefully, gently even, put her arms around Olivai and rested her cheek on the crown of Olivai's head, a soft, contented smile pass Behemoth's lips This was the smile of someone who had found something very precious, something worth protecting.

"This is the best day of my life!" Olivai said. Extracting herself from Behemoth. "I've got a best friend, I'm going to be a Mechwarrior, now all that's missing is a dashing man to sweep me off my feet and my life will be complete!"

Behemoth's face smoothed out as soon as they separated. She didn't show anything other than a companionable smile between friends. "Well don't look here," she joked. "The men here are all undateable if you ask me."

"We'll both find the perfect man!" Olivai said brightly. "We'll each have a fancy lord who'll give us anything we want and our lives will be perfect!"

"Alright, well we'll start training tomorrow." Behemoth said, only a little forcibly. "Now we both need some sleep."

The third and final thing that Olivai missed that night was how quickly that companionable smile dropped as soon as Olivai was out of sight. Behemoth sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "The hell are you doing Miri?" She asked the empty room.

The room had no answers.


	3. Chapter 3

Olivai's life quickly fell into a predictable but enjoyable routine. She would wake early and quickly shower in relative solitude. There were always a few people already in the shower with her, some were early risers, others night owls, but comparatively deserted than if she had slept in. Then she would hang her towel across the **very** open door to her cubicle and get dressed. Her bunkmate, a junior engineer named Brigette, would chortle every time.

"They're all gonna see it eventually, Oli."

As if that were an excuse enough to go about altogether bare! Once in her coveralls and steel toes, she would dash past the mess and grab some breakfast, usually nothing more than a muffin or a bagel, and head to the mech deck.

The work was gruelling. 9 hours of hard labour broken by a 45-minute lunch. She was most often paired with Mattais, those were the most productive days. Mattais' quiet, careful work built an unstoppable momentum that resulted in a surprising amount of work getting done. And after a while, she found it was even… pleasant... to work with him. Not that the others in shift seven were hard to get along with. They were all happy to help and worked together easily enough. Olivai quickly found herself feeling part of the group. But as she continued her education in fixing and refitting mechs, those long days of quiet concentration with Mattais were almost treats, of a sort. After her mechtech shift, she would eat supper, and usually relax for an hour or so in the lounge or the game room. She still wasn't the most sociable person on the ship, she doubted she ever could be - some of the mechwarriors were… outgoing to say the least - she was finding a place that felt like it was her's.

Later she would meet up in the sim pods with Behemoth and practise piloting mechs. It was more difficult than she had envisioned.

 _ **BOOM.**_ Olivai gritted her teeth as the Pod shuddered and jerked around her. Olivai sat in the "cockpit" and sweated. The simulation was set to one of the lightest mechs in the Hand's arsenal. A Locust 1-M. Used for scouting and spotting.

"Ok." Behemoth's voice crackled through the headset cradling Olivai's head. "Now just use the leg controls to situate them under you as you bring your torso up over it."

Olivai tried to blow away a sweat-slicked strand of hair from her face and failed. "I did that!" she snapped. The simulated Locust was still on it's back fallen over after taking precisely two steps. The accomplishment of taking 200% more steps than ever before was equal parts exciting and embarrassing. Sometimes it felt like trying to pilot a mech was like learning to play different piano solos on each hand, while blindfolded, and in a sauna.

"Well, you did it wrong, or you'd be upright." Behemoth remarked flatly. "Try it again."

Olivai's hands flew across the controls. Trying to manoeuvre all of them just right and keep track of a half-dozen other systems that need to be- _**Booom.**_ The entire pod shuddered and vibrated as a simulated fall shook her again. "Didn't you say you'd run simulations before?" Behemoth asked dryly.

"God-" She bit off her curse. "Goshdarnit!" Olivai ripped off the headset and hurled in at the screen, at that stupid image of a bright, sunny, stupid sky.

It bounced off the screen and struck Olivai's ear sharply.

"Wha-I! I'm-! Raaah!" Olivai sputtered in rage, she balled up a fist and swung it up to hit the sim pod's controls-

The door was open and Behemoth reached in to seize her wrist before Olivai could get halfway down.

"No smashing the controls while you're signed in as me." She said sharply, but she didn't look angry.

Olivai took a deep breath, then pried her arm free. "Apparently those weren't the most… accurate simulations." Olivai admitted to her feet. She looked up at Behemoth. Was that… amusement?! Olivai opened her mouth to give her teacher an acidic response, but it was swallowed by a yelp as Behemoth bundled her easily out of the pod and over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "We're done for the day."

"Hey! No! I can keep going!" Olivai struggle fiercely, but she may as well have been a kitten pushing at a tigress. Behemoth started walking to the door. Olivai's struggles sputtered and died, she was too tired. "Ok, you can let me down now," she said. The door hissed open and they stepped out into the halls "No more for today," Olivai relented. Behemoth kept walking. "Behemoth!" Olivai said loudly, laughter bubbling through her indignation. It was very difficult to be mad in such a silly situation. She giggled and Behemoth smiled herself but didn't stop walking. "Where are you taking me?" Olivai kicked weakly. "C'mon Be, I need a shower. Let me down." Behemoth affected to not hear, or maybe she didn't care. Olivai sighed and propped her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on Behemoth's sturdy shoulder.

"You need to relax." Behemoth stated.

"Yeah," Olivai said impatiently. "Hence the shower."

"I'll do you one better." Was all Behemoth would say.

Olivai was sure she looked incredibly strange to those passing them in the halls, being carried around like a sack. but she decided it was wise to only fight the battles you could win, so she waited.

A flash of caramel skin and dark hair caught her eye. Olivai's eyes widened. "Put me down," she said. Behemoth grunted. "Put me down!" Olivai hissed. Behemoth hesitated only a moment before she stopped and let Olivai get her feet under her just in time for Caius to come close enough to make the pair out. Olivai quickly smoothed back her hair, cut short above her shoulders, and straightened her clothes as best she could. Caius' smile as he recognised her might have made her breathless, or it could have been Behemoth's manhandling, it was hard to tell.

"H-Hi," Olivai said, wishing she could do something about how red her face was. From the heat in the pod, of course. Nothing else. "Caius, how are you?"

Caius's eyes, a deep, rich, brown, swept over Behemoth without pausing and settled on Olivai's. "Oli," he said warmly. "How are you?"

Olivai began to tiredly correct him but Behemoth broke in. "It's Olivai." She said, with a hint of a growl.

"No," Olivai said slowly. "You know what? Oli is ok. You can call me whatever you'd like."

Olivai didn't really notice Behemoth next to her, crossing her arms and sniffing disdainfully.

"Oli it is," Caius said with a smile. _What a smile_. Olivai swallowed, sweating in that Sim pod made her thirsty. "Are you busy?" He asked. "They're playing MERCENARIES in the lounge later and if you'd like…?" Caius' offer clearly did not include Behemoth.

"She's busy." Behemoth said. "Important Mechwarrior mechtech business. I need her." Behemoth's arm roughly drew around Olivai's shoulder and pulled her in. "And unless you want to get those pretty hands of yours dirty in the mechlab...?"

Caius smiled graciously. Though if Olivai hadn't known better she would say he was baring his teeth. He turned to look deeply into Olivai's eyes. "Another time then, Oli." He bowed. Olivai almost squeeked. _He_ _ **bows**_. And went on his way.

Olivai turned and watched him go. He did have very nice legs, too. Especially from the back.

"Got your eyeful?" Behemoth said dryly. Olivai's already red face deepened to near purple as she realized what she was doing, very obviously, in a crowded hallway.

Olivai rounded on Behemoth. "Why did you stop me?" She demanded. "If you wanted me to relax, a movie date with Caius would have been perfect!"

Behemoth frowned. "He's not the kind of friend you need, Olivai. Believe me, he's acquired a... reputation since signing on."

Olivai looked back the way Caius went. "Well, maybe he hasn't found the right girl, yet." She said, with more than a touch of wistfulness in her voice. Looking away, she didn't see the shadow pass over Behemoth's face. "He's just so… princely." Olivai couldn't keep the sigh out of her voice.

"C'mon, kid." Behemoth all but dragged her down the hall.

"Hey! Be, where are you taking me?" Olivai asked.

You'll see," was all Behemoth said. Behemoth leads Olivai down a few halls. Until they were in a part of Gamma that Olivai didn't usually get to go to, the officer's quarters. The senior members of the Hand had rooms here, the highest ranked mechwarriors, Chief Virtanen, the head of the Engineering department, and of course Commander Uriel and High lady Arano, now that she was aboard. They stopped at a nondescript door labelled "Behemoth", with another name below it that was roughly scratched out, as though with a knife. "We've been on the move since Coromidir." Behemoth said. Was that… hesitation in her voice? "And from what I hear from your shift leader you're killing it." Behemoth scrubbed her hand roughly though her messy red hair. "Since we've had no time for furlough, I thought we could hang out here and relax." She finished her sentence in a bit of rush. If Olivai didn't know better, she might think Behemoth was nervous, but that was ridiculous. Behemoth did not get nervous.

The thought of spending time with Behemoth was not unpleasant at all. But to spend time, alone, in her personal quarters…? It might spark rumours. How could she turn the offer down without offending, though? She needed to-

"You can use my personal shower, too," Behemoth added as if an afterthought.

"Let's do this," Olivai said immediately. Some things were worth sparking a rumour.

After becoming accustomed to the barracks in alpha poid, Behemoth's personal quarters were expansive beyond opulence. It was a small apartment, complete with a living room, bedroom and private bathroom. The last made her shiver with delight.

"This is it." Behemoth said, sweeping her arms over the space. The living room they were in had a large couch that met at a sharp angle, creating a space to watch holovids, with a small coffee table. The rest of the room was mostly bare, leading to the bedroom and bath. "It's not much but it's home."

"This is where you live?!" Olivai gasped. "It's huge! Even before I ran-" she cut herself off. "Even before my parents died never had this much room to myself!"

"Yeah, I got a good thing with Adris. We've been through hell together." Behemoth said, almost fondly. "When we first started out together the whole crew had to share a barracks even smaller than this. But we've come up in the world." Behemoth was clearly trying not to sound smug, and failing rather spectacularly. "And Adris treats loyalty well." Behemoth collapsed on the couch and sprawled. "I assume you'll be wanting that shower, first." Behemoth said, switching on the holoscreen. "Towels and robes in there. Feel free.

Olivai hesitated, glancing between Behemoth, the holo of the Solaris mech arena fights, and then to the bathroom. It wouldn't hurt to have a quick shower. Would it?

Just under an hour later, Olivai emerged from the bathroom wrapped securely in a fluffy robe and a towel over her hair. Her skin felt like it was glowing pink from the heat and pressure of the water and multiple shower heads. Behemoth was still on the couch but had changed out of her work dress, a simple pair of long cotton pants and a loose tank top. She laid out, her feet up on the table, and watched. A glass full of bright amber liquid in her hand, and a bottle on the table.

"Oh come on!" Behemoth jerked up and made a rude gesture at the holo. "That was a clean hit!" she took a deep swig of her drink.

Olivai crossed her arms behind Behemoth. "So is this what you do on your time off? She asked with a smile.

Behemoth's head snapped around to look at her. "Hey, you're finally out!" She smirked. "I figure I've only got mechs and punching things going for me. May as well combine them. C'mon." She shifted over to make room for Olivai and tapped the open space. "I'll show this match's best part." Behemoth snatched up the remote and rewound the fight. She raised her glass. "Want one?" she asked. Olivai looked at the glass.

"What is it?"

"Taurian whiskey." Behemoth shook the glass to produce a crystalline rattle of ice on glass. "It's really good."

Olivai considered it. She'd never really had much in the way of alcohol. Her mother would let her have a glass of watered-down wine at some events, but nothing like this. "Sure," she said. "Why not?"

The world was… woozy. Olivai tottered around Behemoth's room, inspecting the place as Behemoth fixed them both another drink, she couldn't quite remember how many they'd had but she was sure it was only one or two. She wasn't the kind of person who drank to excess. She looked at a picture, framed on the wall, and blinked several times. It was an image of a clearly younger Behemoth, with a group of unfamiliar men and women. They were roughly dressed, and clearly not flush with C-bills. Behemoth was the tallest woman in the picture, with her arm around a much smaller woman. The only one taller than her was a grim bear of a man that stood off to one side and grimaced at the camera. She tried to point at the woman in Behemoth's arms, but her fingers didn't seem to want to go where she told them. "Whos- whos… the words felt thick, her lips were all tingly and numb. "Who'sis?" Her finger laid on the large grimacing man.

Behemoth appeared at her side and handed her a half-full glass. Was it heavier than it was supposed to be? "They're the crew I worked with before I signed up with Markham's Marauders." She didn't seem to be drunk. And if Behemoth wasn't drunk than Olivai couldn't be either.

"Big guy." Olivai pointed to the grimacing man.

"Brutus was big, but a softie. Taught me how to wrestle. He's a good guy." Behemoth sounded fond of the man. Why did that bother her? The woman was entitled to be fond of whoever she wanted. Olivai took a deep sip, more of a swallow, of her drink and shuddered. "Bleah, it's so strong!"

"Haha, yeah." Behemoth said evasively, sipping her own, much less full drink. That was nice of her, to give Olivai the lion's share of the drink. "You sure you're ok?" Behemoth asked. "You don't want to sit down and get comfortable?" She sounded worried. Why would she be worried?

"Hmmmmmmm..." Olivai closed her eyes and drew in a deep, thoughtful breath. She couldn't sit with a woman! That sort of thing couldn't work! "Yup!" She decided. "I'm gonna go for a walk." And with that, she set off towards the door.

"Whoa, Olivai, maybe you should sit down. You're a little-"

"Bye!" Olivai was out of Behemoth's rooms and into the hall, being careful to not her full drink spill as she giggled and dashed away.

"Wait!"

"You can't catch me!"

Olivai jogged down the hall and took another drink. It really wasn't that bad, now that she got a taste for it. She looked behind her and saw Behemoth following her, a harried look on her face. Obviously, she couldn't let herself be caught by the Mechwarrior, so she turned down the hall and ran directly into some sort of soft brick wall.

Olivai fell back and almost dropped to the ground, her feet were very heavy for some reason. But the wall caught her arm and kept her from hitting the floor.

High-lady Kamea Arano, the wall, raised an eyebrow at Olivai. The hand that wasn't holding Olivai up was keeping a communicator pressed to her ear.

"I'll speak to you later, Karadin. Yes, I love you as well… Well, tell your grandmother she will have grandchildren when she gets them. Quite simply, it is not her concern." The lady Arano frowned and firmly pressed a button and lowered the communicator. "Are you well, child?" Olivai managed to get her feet under her and Kamea let go of her arm.

"Mhm!" Olivai nodded emphatically, to show exactly how well she was. She had to look down at the older woman to meet her eyes they were deep brown, like chocolate. "Gosh you're pretty." she gushed. Heat flashed across her face and Olivai slapped her hands over her mouths. "I'm sorry, I- I-"

"So I've heard." Lady Arano said dryly, her glance encompassed the drink in her hand, miraculously unspilled. She almost took another drink but Lady Arano smoothly lifted it out of her hand without effort.

"Hey!" Olivai said. "But Be'moth was being so nice to me!"

"Oh?" This is Behemoth's doing?" Lady Arano's eyes shifted to look at something behind Olivai and took on an accusatory glint.

"Yeah, she was pouring be reeeeally big ones, and hers were so small!" Olivai said, gratitude filling her words.

"Was she?" Anger flashed through Lady Arano's eyes and suddenly Behemoth was next to them.

"It's not what you think, Kamea!" Behemoth said. "Watered, I watered her's down!"

Lady Arano narrowed her eyes slightly at Behemoth the lifted the glass to sniff it. The heat left her eyes and she sighed.

"Still, you should know better than to feed a young woman drink after drink, Miranda."

Behemoth's lips twitched up in a smile. "Uh, she only had one. That's her second." She scratched the back of her head abashedly. "By the time I noticed how hard it was hitting her, she was already running." Lady Arano finished the drink in two long swallows.

"3010?"

Behemoth nodded.

"A pity to water such an excellent year." Lady Arano said absently, studying the glass.

"I was so glad when you stopped dating the Commander," Olivai mumbled. Lady Arano stiffened beside her. "I wanted him for myself. And you took him." She yawned, she was so tired. Her eyelids felt like they were being dragged down.

"You're welcome to him." Lady Arano said dryly, straightening her shoulders. "Though I think you already have someone to care for you." She arched an eyebrow at Behemoth. Which didn't make any sense, why would Behemoth know who cared for her? "Adding Adris seems… unnecessary." Olivai didn't see Behemoth shake her head pleadingly.

Lady Arano sighed. "Take her back to her own quarters, Miranda, let her sleep it off."

Behemoth's arm swept around Olivai's shoulders. "Yes, Ma'am." Olivai's eyes were almost fully closed. The darkness was so nice.

"And Miranda? Be careful. For both of your sakes."

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

Brigette didn't really like her bunkmate. She wasn't a bad person, she wasn't even annoying, really. She was just a goody-two-shoes and Brigette though she looked down on people who weren't as "pure" as she was. It was late into the night cycle, and she was just settling down into her bunk to get some shut-eye when the door to the barracks slipped open and admitted a very unlikely pair.

Oli, her goody-goody bunkmate, clearly drunk, being carried in bodily by the most badass, terrifying woman in the galaxy. Brigette scrambled out of bed as Behemoth came closer, reading the nameplates on the bunks. Brigette waved and soundlessly pointed to the top bunk. Behemoth nodded her thanks and easily lifted the young woman up to the bunk as if she were nothing. Despite being quiet, their entrance had roused a little interest. A few men looked over with knowing smiles and one or two with a predatory gleam in their eyes. More than a few shocked whispers, that Oli was drinking, and with Behemoth, no less, invaded the room. Behemoth looked around the room, then put a calloused hand on Brigette's shoulder.

"Could you-

"Brigette."

"Brigette, keep an eye on her, would you?" Behemoth actually liked Oli? And now she knew Brigette's name!

"She was really drinking with you?" Brigette asked, sceptical.

"Oh yeah. Really pounds them back." Behemoth said, grinning. "A real firecracker when she lets loose. You should be glad you weren't there." Her voice raised just a little bit, so that she could be heard by more than just them. "Almost drank me under the table." She winked and was striding out.

Bridgette raised her eyebrows at the diminutive form of Oli, already dead asleep.

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

Brigette poured a glass of water and set it by their bedside, then poked her head outside their bunk. Nearly every eye was on them. "Alright guys, nothing to see, piss off." She waved everyone away. Brigette rolled into bed and stared up at the bottom of the top bunk. _Maybe it won't be so bad being her bunkmate_ , she thought.

* * *

Olivai wanted to die. Her limbs felt like she were wearing weights, her mouth was dry, and her skull felt like it was stuffed with cotton... that was also on fire. "Uuuhuhgh" Olivai pushed herself up. Where was she? She was in Behemoth's room last night, then they were drinking… Why did she remember Lady Arano? Familiar grey and white bedding greeted her as she carefully cracked her eye open. _The Barracks?_ She remembers leaving Behemoth's quarters and… running into Lady Arano… but the rest of the night was a dark blur.

"Had a fun night, did you?"

Olivai winced as her bunkmate words lanced into her skull. "Brigette," Olivai mumbled, "please, quiet. I'm-"

"Hungover!?" Brigette didn't seem to be trying to be quiet at **all**. If anything she sounded gleeful in her tormenting. "I should think you'd have to be, drinking Behemoth under the table, apparently." She sounded sceptical, but approvingly so.

"What time is it?" Olivai asked, carefully sitting up. If she move too fast it felt like her brain was... swishing. "Do I have time to shower before they're full?"

"Oh, it's almost noon."

Olivai's eyes snapped open. "What?" She yelped, then immediately regretted it as her own words slammed into her brain. "Ugh. I need to be in the mech bay. Chief's going to kill me."

"Don't worry about it," Brigette said. She pointed to a glass of water next to Olivai's bed on a bedside table bolted to the bulkhead. "Drink that, it'll help. Somebody said he'd cover your work for the morning. Real quiet guy."

"Mattais?" Olivai asked

"Sure, I don't know," Brigette said with a shrug. "He seemed to be worried about you. I think. Not the most expressive guy, that one."

"I gotta get going." Olivai climbed down onto the deck, carefully, and plucked at her clothes, still fully dressed. _At least I know nothing happened with Behemoth._ She thought. A blush coming to her cheeks as the possibilities flashed through her mind. Mother said that just wasn't proper for young ladies to do! She quickly stripped, wrapped a towel around herself, and headed for the showers.

As soon as she stepped out of her cubical, a young man she had never met, who as walking past, waved to her. "Hey! Heard you had a wild night with Behemoth! Nice!"

Olivai waved uncertainty, "Uh, yeah…" She put her head down and sped up. She was still followed by a crowd of well-wishers with knowing laughs and wry chuckles. There was even a woman who introduced herself, in the shower! Adera. Apparently, she was impressed by Olivai's "legendary" night drinking with the vaulted Behemoth.

When Olivai made it back to her cubicle, feeling more harried than ever before, she quickly dropped her towel and dressed. "Brigette, I thought Behemoth wasn't well thought of in the Hand?" Olivai asked. "Why is everyone so impressed that I spent the night drinking with her?"

Brigette looked up from a datapad she was reading from, stretched out on her bed with one arm behind her head. "You're kidding, right? Behemoth isn't the kind of person you want to sit next to at a movie, but she's the most badass chick in the crew, she's crazy!" Brigette sat up, tossing her datapad on the bed. "One new guy hit on her before he heard. And he didn't get two words out before Behemoth broke his arm!" the engineer looked deadly serious. Once we had to leave a planet early because she got in a bar fight and she **killed** someone!" She looked Olivai up and down. "We're just impressed you had the balls to go out with her, Oli."

"I didn't _go out_ with her," Olivai stressed. "We just had a few drinks in her apartments-." As the words came out of her mouth, she realized they would do nothing to dispel the notions the other woman was insinuating. "I mean- She let me use her shower!" Olivai mentally slapped herself on the forehead. Olivai slipped her foot into her work boots and stamped her feet down into them. "Look, nothing happened, alright? I'm not like that."

Brigette smirked and laid back down, pulling her datapad back up to read. "I don't know Oli, everyone changes, just look at how far you've come already." she nodded towards the open cubicle entrance.

Olivai looked at the entrance, which was indeed **very** open, then down at the towel at her feet. Adera walked past, clearly coming out of the shower with her towel over her shoulder, and waved to the pair jovially. She hadn't even thought of it, she'd been so tired and her headache… Heat flooded her face and she stormed out. "I'm not like that!" She snapped, mostly out of embarrassment than anything else. There was nothing wrong with being _like that._ Not really. But it just wasn't her! That's all! Fiercely ignoring the surprising number of approving looks she got as she left the barracks, from both men and women! The Argo was **nothing** like her old home.

When Olivai entered the mess she was greeted by more grins and quiet laughter. Keeping her face straight, she marched as quickly as she could to the kitchens and swiped a wrapped sandwich from one of the baskets put out for people wanting quick meals. In the morning they were full of muffins and bagels. As she came back into the mess hall she noticed Shift seven, her mechtech team, sitting together, staring at her with Cheshire cat grins.

Olivai sighed, sitting at their table. "Alright, go on. Get it all out."

What followed was an avalanche of questions and speculations, apparently, rumour had already blown her night out of proportions. Did she really go out with Behemoth? Was she as scary as she seemed? Did she really get in a fight with Lady Arano? One of her shift mates was convinced she and Behemoth had gotten in a knock-down, drag-out fight with half the mechwarriors in "an alcohol-fueled blood orgy". Olivai's repeated and vehement denials that anything of the sort happened did not seem to slow any of them down.

"Hang on." Olivai frowned, looking at the group. "Where's Mattais?"

"Oh, he skipped lunch, said he needed the extra time."

Guilt burned in Olivai's chest. Mattais had to skip lunch because she had been an idiot and drank herself stupid. "I'll see you guys later." Olivai said quickly, heading back into the galley and grabbing another sandwich.

When Olivai entered the mechlab it was almost eerily quiet. It was always a kicked anthill of activity when she was here, and now, with everyone eating, it felt… abandoned.

Or nearly.

A single bright speck, halfway up the Atlas-II marked the only place in the entire deck that was active. When Olivai drew closer, and the welder cut off, she could clearly see who was working, though she already knew.

Mattais sat back in his mechtech chair and flipped up his welding goggles to study his work. He blindly reached for a travel mug of coffee hanging off his mech tech chair and took a deep drink from it. He looked dirty and worn, sweaty and covered in grime, but he didn't appear any more or less tired than he ever did. Which was to say he looked absolutely exhausted, slumped over with his hair back in a messy bun and his eyes half closed. Olivai quickly snagged her own set of goggles and set up a chair. The mech tech rigs were short metal benches with a welding torch on a retractable line that wound into a spool on the bottom. Each rig came with a control for the giant mag clamps that help them move around the giant machinery and one to move the rig up, down, and around the mech bay. Olivai hopped onto her rig and pressed a button to ratchet the chair up to Mattais. A pair of sandwiches in her lap.

"Hey," Olivai said as she came abreast of the quiet mechtech. He'd gone back to welding, his goggles and head both down, into his work. Through her goggles, she couldn't see well, just the dim outline, but the light of the welder put his face in sharp relief, even with the goggles. He looked into his work deeply, with intensity.

The welding flame died and Olivai flipped up her goggles. Mattais did the same but didn't look away from the armour panel he was working on. Olivai wanted to go on a long, deep explanation on what exactly happened and why, and thank him for covering for her this morning. But something stopped her. Mattias didn't look angry, he didn't look like he needed, or even wanted, an explanation.

She offered a sandwich. "Thanks," She said simply.

Mattais looked over at her. His eyes were half-lidded, but they were the brightest blue she thought she'd ever seen, how had she ever thought he was lazy? He looked at the sandwich.

"Didn't want you to go hungry on my account," Olivai said, laughing to cover her awkwardness.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Mattais shrugged, pulling so many words from him was like pulling a boot from the deep muck. He took the sandwich, though

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

Olivai opened her mouth to apologise-

"Glad you had fun," Mattais said. "Worried you weren't fitting in."

Olivai closed her mouth. "...thanks." Mattais nodded.

"Learning fast. You're good to work with."

Olivai smiled, then hurriedly flipped down her goggles as Mattais went back to welding. She studied him, and his work. Intent on learning as much as she could so she could prove to commander Uriel that she would be the best Mechwarrior he's ever seen.

Ok," Olivai whispered to herself, early in the day shift on her day off. "Ok, ok, ok." Sweat rolled down her face and her arms were shaking slightly with the strain of keeping them in **exactly** the right position. The simulation pod was stifling, but that wasn't really the source of the droplets rolling down her chin and dripping onto the control panel. She had almost done it. The simulated locust mech groaned, swayed, and carefully, slowly, rose back to standing.

"Haha!" Behemoth's voice burst through Olivai's headset. "You did it!" The locust's legs Wobbled dangerously but stayed under her. Elation poured out of Olivai, she couldn't stop the whoop that burst from her lips. "I did it!" She cried. "I stood up!"

"Entering planetary Orbit." a navigator's voice came over the shipwide PA system. The whole ship shuddered and jerked as they decelerated, and Olivai's hands slipped on the controls promptly sending the locust down on it's back again.

The slip couldn't damper Olivai's mood, however, and she jumped out of the pod and raced over to Behemoth, throwing her arms around her middle. Behemoth caught Olivai and followed her momentum, swinging her around in a circle, both of them laughing, before setting her down.

Upon being set back on solid steel, Olivai stumbled a little. "Ooh, dizzy," she giggled, then looked up at her teacher with a wide, breathless smile. "I can't believe I finally did it!"

"You did good, Kid." Behemoth said warmly. "If we hadn't deceled right them you could have kept going."

"I know, right?!" Olivai said. "I'm finally getting the hang of this."

"Its a start." Behemoth said, then looked up at the PA as it crackled to life again.

"Alpha squad. Gear up. We drop in 45."

Behemoth gently pried Olivai off her. "They're playing my song."

"You're fighting in this mission?" Olivai asked. The Golden Hand had completed a handful of contracts since she'd come aboard, but Behemoth hadn't personally deployed. Why did that bother her?

"Yeah, this one's going to be tough, and my squad is the toughest." Behemoth stretched casually, the muscles along her arms rippled smoothly. "It'll be nothing for us."

"Oh, alright," Olivai said. "I'll wait for you, then."

Behemoth clapped Olivai on the shoulder heartily. "We'll celebrate later, yeah? We'll have some furlough and head planetside for a party." She grinned and headed out. The door hissed shut sharply, leaving Olivai feeling very alone in the Simulation room.

Olivai wandered through the Argo, feeling a little lost. So far, on her few days off, Behemoth had always been there to keep her company. Now that she was absent, Olivai didn't know what to do with herself. It wasn't that she was sad or relied only on Behemoth for attention and entertainment, but she had grown used to the taller woman. It was about time for the Leopard to depart form the Argo, so Olivai headed to the Observation deck. Maybe it would make her feel better if she could see the ship that Behemoth was on. As she left. On her way to fight for her life against people who wanted to kill her. The thought made Olivai sick and she almost left to go back to the barracks. But when the door to the observation deck hissed open she saw Commander Uriel, Saytr, leaning on the railing that surrounded the deck. The Observation deck was a large, open concept room, the entirety of one wall a massive window that gave a sweeping view of local space. Currently, the majority of the view was taken up by a large planet covered in swaths in green and brown, with only a few small oceans to break up the continents.

The Commander glanced over his shoulder as Olivai entered and froze at the sight of him. He looked back at the view. It was a beautiful sight, the pinpoint tapestry of stars smattering behind the bold sphere of earthy tones that was the planet they orbited. Transfixed, Olivai walked up beside Saytr. She was just about to comment on the majesty of the view when Saytr spoke.

"It's a terrible sight, isn't it?" He said quietly. Olivai blinked. Terrible?

"What do you mean?" Olivai asked. This kind of view was one of the reasons she'd left that mudball planet in the first place.

"That." Saytr nodded as the Leopard slid up into view and glided soundlessly towards the planet. "Sending your friends off into a fight, not knowing if they'll come back at all."

Olivai tried to portray the calm arrogance that Behemoth showed. "Alpha squad is the best. They can handle it."

"Even the best of us slip up eventually, Olivai" Saytr said. "Will it be this time? The next? It always happens sooner or later."

The idea that the Commander, the great Saytr, was actually worried about this missed chilled Olivai to the bone. "Do you think that she's going to come back?" she asked sharply.

"If there's one person in the Galaxy that will always survive, it's Miri."

It took several seconds for Olivai's mind to pair the name "Miri," with "Miranda," and then Behemoth. Olivai shook her head. "I've never heard anyone call her that." she chuckled. "I bet she'd hate it."

Saytr's smile was small, his eyes far away in memory. "She does, but she doesn't stop me. I think it reminds her of someone." His eyes took on an appraising look. "I think we both do, Olivai." He said. Olivai blushed and busied herself picking lint off her sleeve. Saytr looked back at the view, the Leopard was almost entirely invisible, now, a tiny black speck against a wide brown stretch. "How has the simulation training been going?" He asked, without looking away. Had he always known?

Olivai almost chocked. "What?" She said, masking as much of her fear as she could. "N-No. Those pods are only for Mechwarriors. I wouldn't use one. I couldn't, without a mechwarrior profile." She flicked her eyes, side to side warily. "Which I don't have."

Saytr arched an eyebrow. "And I'm supposed to believe that one of my most experienced and talented Mechwarriors has forgotten how to stand upright in a Locust?" He asked dryly. "Her sim ranking has dived harder than an Atlas in freefall." He smirked as Olivai's mouth worked in vain, trying to figure out a way to get both herself and Behemoth out of this.

"I'm sorry!" Olivai nearly shouted. "It was me. I… I stole her id and have been logging in under her name without her knowledge. She doesn't know anything." She wasn't about to drag her friend's name through the mud just to save her own skin.

Saytr leaned on the railing with his back to the window and his elbows propped next to him. "If that were the case, you'd be in the hospital. Miri is…" He searched for the right word, "...competitive. She'd have beaten you to a pulp for hurting her in the rankings." He thought for a moment. "No. she gave you her login info. And she's teaching you. Or you wouldn't be improving so quickly." He pushed himself up to standing. "Good work." He put a hand on her shoulder and she gasped.

"You're not angry at me for breaking the rules?" Olivai asked. Saytr grinned.

Saytr shrugged. "Eh, they're more like guidelines than actual rules," he said. "It helps weed out those who aren't dedicated enough. If you can't break a single rule, how badly could you really want it?" He looked into her eyes and Olivai thought she would melt. His were dark, so dark they seemed black. "Being a Mechwarrior isn't something you should do because you want glory or honour, or even money. It's something you do because, inside, you know there's simply nothing else that will make you feel complete. Those are the kind of Mechwarriors I need, those are the Mechwarriors that make up the Golden Hand."

"I won't let you down, Sir Saytr."

Saytr winced. "Oh, let's cool it on the alliteration if the guys hear that one I'll never hear the end of it." He stuck out his hand. "When we're alone, call me. Saytr" Olivai took it and shook, her eyes wide and shining. "Otherwise it's Commander Uriel, got it?" He added firmly.

Olivai snapped up a salute. "Yes, Sir!"

Olivai hurried out of the observation deck. She was still worried about Behemoth. But not she was full of purpose. Commander Uriel, _Saytr,_ thought she was improving! She would be a Mechwarrior yet!

* * *

Dekker joined his friend and commander in the Observation deck. They watched the planet below spin in silence for a moment. "I just had an interesting conversation with our newest recruit," Saytr said.

Dekker looked over at him. "I know," He said. "You left your communicator on." Saytr cursed and shut the damn thing off.

"She's got potential,"

"I know," Dekker said. "She also Idolizes you as the next thing to God.

Saytr rolled his eyes. "I know," he sighed.

"I think she's head over heels in love, too," Dekker added.

"You mean Olivai or Miranda?"

"Both." the two men laughed quietly.

Saytr checked his messages, it was silly to think the contract would be finished so soon, but he couldn't stop when he had a squad planetside.

"It might cause problems in the long run," Dekker warned.

"Maybe." Saytr scratched his chin. "But I'm not going to stop her. Either of them"

It was Dekker's turn to sigh. "Me neither."

The two old mercenaries stood in silence and watched the world spin.

"So… Sir Saytr, huh?"

Adris groaned. "How's the investigation into Kamea's attacker going?" He said, changing the subject as fast as humanly possible.

Dekker shifted his weight off his prosthetic. "Slow, we know someone hacked in the Coromidir emergency response system to broadcast their message but tracking it is tough. Whoever did it knew how to cover their tracks.

"Worth calling in an independent contractor? I think Witness is free. If anyone could find the culprits, they could."

Dekker bristled, "No, I can handle it." He hesitated. "Probably." It must be difficult if Dekker was admitting he might not be able to finish the job.

"Keep on it, Dek. I want a target to shoot."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Olivai was still trying to keep her mind off the ongoing contract, so she had headed to the library. Now she sat hunched over in one of the large, plush chairs that were available for readers to curl up in, nearly a hundred pages into one of the rare and expensive honest-to-god paper books they had in catalogue. She kept the book's cover down, on her lap, as to keep its title a secret. It was a rather… racy story about a young, medieval noblewoman falling for a mercenary. The mercenary was a hulking bruiser of a man that initially scared all who meet him, but the young woman begins to see past his brutish exterior and see a caring and thoughtful man that, despite being told that such a union could not work, she falls in love with.

Olivai flushed hotly, keeper her head down in her book. The mercenary had just saved the noblewoman from bandits, wielding a huge club that he swung about with ease, but he took wounds in the fight. Now they were… celebrating. The dashing prince was much more to her liking, but she was beginning to see the appeal of a tall, strong man who could pick her up and-

"Mechtech and medical teams, to the Mechlab for disembarking procedures." The PA blared loudly even into the library. More that one reader looked up in annoyance, but Olivai jerked to her feet. _Medical?!_ Olivai thought frantically. She left the book on the chair and dashed out of the library. She was followed in the halls by a cloud of shouts, curses, and rude gestures as she forced her way closer to the mechlab, where the Battlemechs would be unloaded by the leopard for the Mechwarriors to disembark. _If they disembark._ Olivai forced the thought from her mind and kept running.

The mechlab was a flurry of hectic motion when Olivai entered, the returning lance was set up in their cradles, each one bearing obvious signs of battle damage. Holes the size of people punched through the armour, sections of metal slagged by lasers made strange, half melted shapes on the 'mechs. Olivai ran forward. She hopped on a lift that took her to the middle scaffold, that would to the 'mech's cockpits. This is where **she** would be coming from. Olivai dodged haphazardly around shouting mechtechs and rushing medical personnel. She knew she looked rather out of place in her soft soles shoes, cotton pants, and warm hoodie, but she needed to know. Behemoth's 'mech, the looming Atlas-II drew closer. It bore the worse of the damage, blasted scorch marks peppered the whole body, numerous holes from autocannon fire, and several distinct hits to the head. A medical team rushed past carrying a body on a stretcher. Olivai's heart leapt into her chest for a moment before she saw it wasn't Behemoth. She kept going.

The Atlas-II was right ahead of her. Olivai rounded a corner into the mechlab cradle, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Oh, Hi Olivai." Behemoth waved from her seat on a large crate next to the ramp that led up to the Atlas' cockpit, blood caked half her face and her left shoulder rested at an unnatural angle, the arm cradled by a makeshift sling. An irritated medical assistant dabbing at her head muttered as she moved. "Oh, sorry doc." She used her good hand to brush back her hair carefully. "So, how was your day off?" She smiled.

Olivai reached out a hand to her friend. How could she smile? Even looking from here, and ignoring the giant cut on her skull, there were at least a dozen visible wounds on her, bruises, cuts, burns and scapes. Olivai was afraid to get closer as if she might make a mistake and hurt her friend even worse.

Behemoth noticed her hesitation and looked down at her assortment of injuries as if surprised they were worth commenting on. "Oh, this? Its nothing, the head looks worse than it is. I just need to relocate my shoulder and I'll be fine."

"And a considerable amount of bedrest." The MedTech added. Behemoth rolled her eyes.

Behemoth carefully raised her arm. "Here Olivai, help me up." Olivai came close enough to grab her arm and braced herself to help haul the larger woman to her feet and-

Behemoth leaned back and twisted her arm close to her side as Olivai pulled and her shoulder popped back into place with a dull _crunch_. "There we go!" Behemoth said happily. Standing and rolling her shoulder experimentally. Olivai stared at her in a mix of terror and revulsion. What if she had messed up and did more damage? She shouldn't be doing things like-

"Hey, Olivai." Behemoth snapped her fingers in front of Olivai's face "It's fine. I'm fine."

Tears blurred Olivai's vision as she looked at her dearest friend in the world smiling at her. Olivai flung herself at Behemoth in a fierce hug.

"Oph!" Behemoth's arms settled around Olivai's shoulders. Like a warm, heavy blanket.

"Most of your injuries are superficial." the MedTech said, finally. "You should still stop by the hospital wing for a full scan after your debrief.

"Sure thing, doc." Behemoth nodded and the young man picked up his bag and moved on.

Behemoth looked down at Olivai, still wrapped around her middle. "I didn't know you cared this much." She grinned. She didn't seem to mind that Olivai cared. Olivai pushed off the Mechwarrior and looked up at her.

"You're my best friend on this ship," Olivai confessed. She looked down, plucking at her hoodie absently. "Of course I care.

Behemoth's smile would have only looked forced to someone who knew her very well. "Right," she said. "Best friends."

"Are you ok to walk, I can help you if you-"

"OLI!" Chief Virtanen's voice roared over all of the din in the Mechlab. He forced his way though the assembled crowds, though it would be more accurate to say the crowd forced itself away from him. "If I see you in my Mechlab without proper gear again I will assign you as Glitch's personal Mechtech!" He ended with the metal finger of his prosthetic jammed under Olivai's nose and a grimace on his face. "By gods, you have potential, and I will not see it wasted by dying from a senseless accident." He seized Olivai's arm and dragged her away. A quick look back showed a bemused Behemoth waving goodbye. "I overlooked your last slip up because Mattais spoke for you. But if this is how you're going to act, I'll keep you a hose holder for the rest of your natural life." Olivai gulped and began to try talking her way out of ever, **ever** holding a hose again.


	4. Chapter 4

The Adversary waited. That's all it was now, the Adversary. It was more, once, something else… a person? But no, that's gone now. Now, it only exists to end the Enemy. The enemy made the Adversary into what it was, and it would pay.

The Adversary's body quivered with hatred at the thought of the Enemy. Flesh and bone rebuilt into steel and servos for an express purpose, revenge. Those servos whined and shuddered. It wasn't ready yet. It needed time. Time to rebuild, time to plan. Hatred burned inside it. Hatred and rage with nowhere to go, just swirling and boiling, like a fire, burning away everything inside. Until the only thing left inside the Adversary was hate. The Adversary **was** hate. Its living incarnation. Hate hate hate hate.

In a dark, empty hospital room on a tiny moon, tucked away far from everything, the Adversary lay in a bed. Waking up. A robotic skull turned, studying its new torso and arms. Its body ended abruptly at the waist. The adversary's eyes activated, it raised it's hand before its eyes, experimentally flexing its hand. A smooth tattoo of metallic clicks issued from the segmented digits. As it stared at its hand, so different, it was sure, from its original form. Those memories were faint… distant, it had been important… commanding A sound rose from the Adversary's voice box. Laughter. There was no mirth or joy in it, only hate. The Adversary Hated so much it laughed. It was a curious thing, to laugh from hatred, but that was all the Adversary had left, so it did it no matter how curious it felt. It laughed and laughed and laughed. Rolling chuckles and deep belly guffaws, all the while burning with hate. It was not time yet, so it would wait. Its the first attack was a success. It brought the Enemy together, back together, It was One, It was One. Now The Adversary needed to wait, but impatience boiled inside it. The metal fingers slid back onto the bed and the cameras that functioned as eyes flickered and died. It had waited eleven years, it could wait a little longer.

* * *

Adris "Satyr" Uriel was in his element. He was flush with C-bills, wearing his favourite coat on a dangerous planet after his company had completed a difficult contract, and he was being shot at.

"Look, mate," Satyr shouted from behind the toppled table that served as his cover in the now abandoned bar. It was Adris' favourite kind of place, dark, dirty, and a crossway look away from a fist fight. The card game the table had hosted was scattered on the floor, the plastic chips and cheap cards clattering under Satyr's feet. "You lost, fair and square. No shame in it!" Two **BANGS** were immediately followed by two bullets slamming into the table, driving in divots.

"Y'cheated. Bastrad!" The slurred response showed exactly how much the shooter had been drinking during their game. It was a lot, Satyr had made sure of it. It was a mixed blessing. He was so drunk he'd only hit Satyr by chance, but if he were more sober he may not have drawn in the first place.

Satyr shot up to point an accusatory finger at the drunk man. "I did not!" He said, making sure to sound offended at the very thought! Two more bullets sliced the air around him, Satyr yelped as he hid away again.

"I'm sure we can come to an agreement here!" Satyr said, back to the table"No one needs to get hurt!"

"Yeah they do," The drunk slurred back. "You got-" the man burped noisily, "you gotta get hurt."

Satyr sighed and drew his pistol. He didn't like hurting people if he didn't have to, but sometimes there isn't a choice. Satyr scooped up a handful of poker chips, took a breath, then moved.

Satyr was a Mechwarrior, experiencing combat from inside a 90-tonne battlemech, but he was no stranger to fighting on the ground. He rolled out of cover and battle instincts took over, reality seemed slowed down around him, seconds crawling by like minutes. The drunks handgun wavered as it laboriously tracked him. Satyr flung his handful of plastic chips at the drunk, the colourful discs flashed through the air. The drunk's focus shifted, his aim slipped, then Satyr's pistol centred on target and he squeezed the trigger. BANG!

Time slammed back into place. A spray of crimson flashed and the Drunk fell to the ground with a heavy _whumf_. The bar fell into a silence only broken by Satyr's breathing. He stayed where his roll finished, on one knee, with his pistol held ready.

Any patrons had fled once the violence started, leaving only the bartender. A pretty young woman who, had Satyr been eleven years younger, would have been an excellent way to spend a furlough. She peeked up from behind the bar, hair in disarray and eye wide. "Is it over?" She asked, not sure if the "good guy" had won or not

Satyr sighed and stood up, pushing his pistol back into its holster. "It's over." He said. He got to his feet and walked over to the fallen man, swiping a plate from a table as he passed. He kneeled over the fallen drunk. Blood pooled under his head, slowly growing. "It's over, isn't it?" He asked.

The drunk's eyes fluttered open, clouded by confusion. His hand reached up and felt his ear, or where his left ear used to be. It was gone now, probably not the highlight of his life, but better than dying. "You-" He mumbled. He tried to sit up, swinging a fist halfheartedly. Satyr easily leaned back from the blow and **bonked** him on the head with the plate. The drunk collapsed bonelessly onto the floor.

"Yeah, it's over." Satyr sighed. He looked over at the Bartender. "Sorry about that." Satyr stood and tossed a chit of C-bills to the bartender. "This should cover the damages," He said, walking to the door. "And a tip, for your trouble." He winked at her and gave his best smile. That smile had gotten him out of worse - a dashing smile was a must for a starsetting rogue. The pretty young woman smiled back, a tinge of pink flushing to her cheeks. Satyr settled his coat around his shoulders, secured and safetied his weapon, then stepped out into the chilly night.

It was autumn in the Atreus Prime Capital - the centre of manufacturing for the planet. It wasn't where the actual work took place, but where the owners and executives stayed and worked. It had a white collar veneer over the grunge and grime of a periphery world, even deep in Taurian Concordat as it was, it was still periphery. Satyr walked up a short flight of stairs into an alley. Behind him, the bar's lights flicked off sharply and the Holosign blurred to "closed". Satyr picked up his pace, He didn't want to be near when the police arrived. The alley was dark and cool, but Satyr's pace quickly took him to the streets, brightly lit against the dark night and teeming with nightlife. Satyr quickly vanished into the crowd.

Less seedy bars and establishments lined this area of the city; polished, boring places where someone was more likely to call the cops than to get in a proper fist fight. In his good coat, his long dark hair to his shoulders, and standing a head over most, Satyr cut a swift path through the crowds. A black spot amongst the bight and polished masses. A crew member passed, waving jovially, Satyr nodded back safely. He had to maintain a certain decorum of leadership while around the crew, but when he was on his own, he could be himself. He was "Commander Uriel" all too often as of late, it was good to be away and get in a fight, really get back to his roots.

A shoulder thumped into his, a thin, pinched-faced man in expensive clothes stumbled back.

"Watch it, mouth-breather!" The man snapped.

Satyr sighed. _Don't beat civilians,_ he reminded himself, hearing Dekkar's voice. _Being rude isn't cause for a fight._ Sometimes he wished more places were like the deep periphery. So much simpler. Satyr made a slight bow, "Apologies". He passed the pinch-faced man and kept going, he'd heard that Darius and Sumire were having dinner at an upscale joint further ahead. He hadn't managed to grab a meal before the gunplay started up and he was starving. Pinch-Face ran past and planted himself in Satyr' way.

"Kiss my boot." He demanded.

Satyr's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "What?" Kamea wouldn't ask someone to do that even on her worst day.

"You've offended your better, a simple apology is not sufficient." He raised his boot, a soft thing that wouldn't last two days doing real work. Some logo, a brand name of some kind, stood out prominently on the side.

Satyr took a deep, calming breath. _Don't kill him don't kill him don't kill him._

"I'm not gonna do that." Satyr said bluntly. "Now get out of my way before someone gets hurt." A small space had opened up around the pair, whispers fluttered through the night air.

Pinch-Face smirked. "You're going to do exactly as I say, thug." He flourished his communicator to his ear. "Or I make a call, and ruin your life."

Satyr arched an eyebrow. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"You ever hear of the Golden Hand?"

Satyr tried **very** hard not to laugh. He kept his face straight and even managed to sound a little worried for good effect. "Once or twice, helped with the Restoration, right?" His lips twitched, but he managed to keep them from curling up. Barely.

"Well, I have some acquaintances in the government here," Pinch-Face said smugly. "I have the contact for the Commander of the Hand himself! One call to my friend and they'll drop a Battlemech on your head!" The last was an almost manic shout. "Now do it!" He shook his foot.

Satyr drank in what he'd just heard, trying to understand the depths of pettiness he'd be forced to experience.. "So you're saying that, if I don't get down and kiss your boot, you'll contract a mercenary company to attack me, personally, using battlemechs?" He asked, tilting his head.

Pinch-Face had a look of dark glee. "Yes. You'll be helpless. Now, if you will?"

Satyr scratched the side of his head absently. "Seems kind of excessive, doesn't it?"

"Then you'd better get on your knees, and kiss my boot like the peasant you are!" Pinch-Face spat.

"Satyr?" A rich voice asked, "That you?" A mass of messy red hair pushing through the crowd telegraphed the arrival of Miranda, Behemoth. Of height with Satyr, Behemoth wore what passed for fashion with her over her many bandages. Combat boots, a leather jacket over a stained tank top, and cargo pants. Beside her, hidden by the crowd until she pushed through, Kamea followed, oddly dressed down from her normal royal styles. She could pass for a labourer. Kamea's eyes narrowed slightly but didn't say anything.

Satyr affected a slightly wide-eyed fearful look and gazed at Behemoth. "Be, thank gods you're here, this guy is crazy, he wants me to kiss his boot or he'll call the Golden Hand on me!"

"Really?" Behemoth's mouth pressed into a thin line to keep from laughing. Even Kamea looked like she was enjoying the joke. Her face was perfectly straight, but her eyes, when she thought something was funny they crinkled at the corners in just the cutest-

Satyr shook his head. No time for those thoughts anymore.

Behemoth looked over at Kamea. "That does sound serious, 'Mea, he'd better do it, right?"

"It would seem prudent," Kamea said simply. Pinch-Face was watching the back and forth with growing confusion, it seemed he was catching on that he was the butt of a joke here.

"Well?!" He demanded.

Satyr tapped his chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. "You know what? I'll take my chances," he said. "Make your call."

Pinch-Face's face turned such a livid colour of purple that Satyr was actually afraid for the man's health. "Fine!" He snapped. "I hope you've lived a full life!" He hit a button on his communicator and waited.

Satyr's communicator rang, but he didn't answer it. He let it ring into the chilled night, the only accompaniment to the symphony of whispers that surrounded them.

For a long moment, Pinch-Face tapped his foot impatiently and Satyr ignored his ringing com.

Satyr looked sideways at Pinch-Face. "D'you mind if I take this? It might be work," he stage whispered. Pinch-Face scowled, which Satyr took as a gracious acquiescence.

Satyr took out his own communicator. Behemoth's grin broke through and she started chuckling. Satyr pressed the communicator to his ear "Y'ello?"

Satyr' response came in an odd stereo, audible through Pinch-Face's communicator a bare moment after Satyr spoke.

There was a moment of silence. Even the whispers stopped as a wave of comprehension flowed through the crowd, ending with Pinch-Face. His face phased through a number of emotions, expectation, confusion, anger, confusion again, then, as he looked at his communicator, then at the man in front of him, realization, and finally - fear.

"Whaddya know, you actually **do** have my number." Satyr said, looking at the com thoughtfully. He glanced at the communicator's caller ID. "Bream Holloway." He took one step closer to Pinch-Face - Bream, forcing the little man to crane his neck to maintain eye contact. "Now, here's what's going to happen." The mirth in Satyr' face was gone, replaced with a winter's fury. "You will lose that number." Pinch-Face nodded. "You will step aside." More nodding. "And if I ever hear that you've even **mentioned** my crew again, I. Will. Hurt. You." Bream nodded and ran, forcing his way through the crowd, physically pushing more than one person in his bid for distance from Satyr.

Satyr looked around the small space that had opened up around them, feeling very much in the spotlight.

"Alright everybody shows over!" Behemoth barked. Their audience quickly moved on, whispers filling the air like a cloud. Satyr started walking, shoulders hunched. Behemoth fell in beside him, and Kamea beside her, putting the red-haired woman firmly between them.

"Hows your furlough, Cap?" Behemoth asked, unaware or, more likely, uncaring of any tension between himself and Kamea. "Do anything fun?"

"The usual." Satyr said with a wry grin. Behemoth barked a laugh and Kamea sniffed disdainfully.

"Were you actually cheating this time?"

"Eeeeeh" Satyr's hand flip-flopped side to side.

Behemoth's head tilted.

"I wasn't cheating when he flipped the table and accused me of cheating." Satyr said, flicking his wrist to produce a pair of aces from his coat sleeve. It was his favourite for a reason. "Which is the important part."

Behemoth laughed mightily and wrapped an arm around Satyr' shoulders to pull him into a one-armed hug. "We need to go drinking sometime again. You're always fun to drink with." Satyr slipped out of Behemoth's grip and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "What are you two up to?" He asked, looking over at the two women.

Kamea said nothing, walking with them. Her hair was pulled back in a tail, she'd grown it out since the Restoration. It was halfway down her back now.

"I convinced the 'high-lady' here to slum it with me." Behemoth switched targets to pull in Kamea. "See how the other half lives. The hardest part was getting real clothes for her, none of that high fashion crap."

Kamea looked up at Behemoth, a mischievous glint in her eye. "When we get back to Coromodir, Miranda, I'll bring you to a palace ball." She said, a gentle smile playing over her lips. "I believe you would look quite fetching in a silk gown." Behemoth's arm pulled back from Kamea's shoulders.

"Well-" Behemoth started, stepping away from the High-lady. "I'm not - I don't really- you wouldn't want me-" She scowled as Satyr started laughing. Kamea simply smirked, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Assholes," Behemoth muttered.

Satyr's laughter petered out and he looked over at Kamea, walking purposefully beside them. Even dressed like a thug, or maybe an off-duty labourer, she still looked like a Queen. That posture, the way she just expected things to go her way. It was infuriating. It was beautiful. Kamea glanced his way and Satyr forced himself to look away. _It's over, She's married, for the good of the Coalition. She had to._ The thoughts stung, they did every time, but they were important. They stopped him from making mistakes. The dull thrum of the Capital filled the silence between the three of them. The crowds were thinning, they were entering the upper crust, most couldn't afford to eat around here.

Satyr cleared his throat, "So Miranda, where's your protege?"

Behemoth coughed, a tinge of pink reached up her collar. "I dunno, her shift took her out for drinks or something."

"No doubt wanting to party with the woman who 'drank Behemoth under the table'," Satyr chuckled, "How many did she have? Two?

"One and a quarter," Kamea said quietly.

Satyr _tsked_ , "You must be losing your touch."

Behemoth hunched her shoulders, "She needed the rep, that's all."

"Mhhm, Kamea agreed dryly. "I'm sure you use your **best** Taurian whisky on every new girl that wants to fit in. Tell, me, did you light candles before you served her? Or were you going to wait to 'set the mood'?"

"Guys-" Behemoth's voice had an edge or a warning in it.

"She would have waited," Satyr reasoned, "Olivai seems a bit sheltered, can't come on too strong. You'll scare her off."

"Very true."

Behemoth drew a deep breath. "Alright, you've had your fun-"

"Definitely would wait to light the candles." Satyr nodded.

"Ah," Kamea added, laughter bubbling through. "Unless they were already lit, just in the **bedroom**."

"That's it!" Satyr cackled. "That's exactly how you'd-"

Behemoth's open palm smacked into the side of his head, and her ankle swept in to push his feet the opposite direction. The world spun and he was on the ground. Seeing an upside down Behemoth easily spin and sweep Kamea's legs out from under her, depositing the High-lady next to him.

Behemoth spun on her heel and marched away, making a rude gesture over her shoulder as she left.

Satyr hauled himself up to sit on the sidewalk. Kamea was already up, sitting next to him.

"We probably deserved that." Satyr said, after a moment.

"Yes, I believe we did," Kamea said lightly.

The street suddenly seemed very empty. They sat alone, the night's chill had deepened to mist their breath as they sat under the city lights.

Satyr looked over at Kamea. "You look good." He said quietly.

"Thank you." Kamea's smile was small but warm. She pulled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "You look… in your element." her small smile grew a fraction into a smirk.

"I look **fine** " Satyr lifted his chin stubbornly.

"If you ever come to court wearing that, I'll have thrown you out."

Satyr turned to face Kamea, smiling that smile. "Well it's a good thing we're not in your court now, isn't it?" Kamea's eyes, deep, rich brown, reflected the city lights, like dark jewels catching a thousand suns.

Hesitation flickered behind those eyes. "Satyr…" She said softly. A warning.

"I mean so you won't throw me out." Satyr added quickly. He rose to his feet and brushed his pants off. The smile doesn't always work. "That's all." He offered a hand to Kamea, still sitting on the sidewalk. She studied his hand for a moment, then took it, her soft skin sliding into his rough, calloused palm.

"Of course," she said as Satyr helped her up. Their eyes stay locked together, His blue, her brown. When she was all the way to her feet, they were almost nose to nose. An ache bloomed in Satyr's chest. She felt so... right. The heat of her skin warming his, hand in hand. They stayed there for a long moment, the world going on around them. Satyr brushed a stray lock of hair that'd escaped. Trailing his finger around her ear then down her jaw to her chin.

"Adris." another warning, harder this time. Satyr withdrew his hand and took a step away.

He cleared his throat. "Right. Yes."

Kamea looked away, her eyes glimmering sadly, "you know why it can't work." She said. "We both made our choices."

"I know,"

"It has to-"

"I know!" Satyr snapped. Kamea recoiled as if slapped. She watched him as if studying an injured beast, liable to snap and bite at the slightest provocation.

He took a deep breath. "Sumire and Darius are close. I'm going to get a bite with them." He sighed. "You're welcome to join." Kamea hesitated. "As a friend." He clarified.

Kamea continued her study. The moment stretched, then finally broke. "Very well." She said. She gestured, and the pair walked together. They were close enough that the average passerby might think they were a couple. If you looked close, however, you could see it, how they held themselves, how they walked. There was a wall. A wall between the two of them that kept them apart, invisible, made of pride and obligation, but as strong as steel.

The two walked in companionable silence, ignoring that wall however it loomed.

* * *

Behemoth marched through the Capital's streets, shoulders hunched and her hands jammed in her pockets. There weren't many people out at the moment, but the few that were had the good sense to get out of her way. She didn't feel bad about dropping Satyr or Kamea to the ground at all, She didn't hurt them, really, and they both knew she wasn't the kind to take that kind of thing lying down. The lion's share of frustration came from herself, though. She hated, **hated** , feeling embarrassed. Satyr's and Kamea's ribbing, as gentle as it was, brought back a memory that made her burn with it.

The door to Behemoth's private bathroom closed behind Olivai, and Behemoth stretched. She looked around her room on the Argo, it really was plain, no colour, only a few personalized pictures, everything else was drab, gunmetal grey and stock furniture with few exceptions. Sometimes she felt as though she was doing something wrong. She was sure she could do something to liven this place up, but she was never sure exactly what. Behemoth walked to her bedroom, and quickly stripped off her work gear, tossing them in the laundry chute, yet another perk of leadership. She slipped on her "Civvies", not bothering to put on socks, and padded to the main room. Her first stop was the only piece of furniture that she'd bought on her own. A spacious liquor cabinet, custom made, with separate racks for different liquors, each one with its own climate control to keep the bottle at the optimal temperature for its contents, and an ice chest. She slipped out a bottle of Taurian whisky, the good stuff, and two crystal glasses. She poured herself a drink and flopped on the couch. The holoscreen snapped on and an arena fight was already playing. The shower could be heard through the wall, the roaring hiss of pressurized water. Perhaps she could do something to liven this place up a little. She had some candles somewhere, didn't she? That would be nice, right? People liked candles. Behemoth set her glass on the table and hopped up to search her room.

Behemoth sat back on the couch, surveying the results of the last few minutes of work. A half dozen candles lit the room with a soft light. The overheads were off, as well as the holoscreen. Giving the room a heavy blanket of darkness that the candlelight gently pushed away. "This is nice." She said to the glow. "Yeah, it'll be fine." Behemoth stood and took a few experimental steps around the room. She could see everything well enough, which was good, she didn't want to make it too dark for Olivai. She passed the picture of her last crew, and stopped to pick it up. Brutus scowled at her from the corner, the younger Behemoth beamed, arms around a pretty young woman. Behemoth's finger traced the woman's face.

"Hi, Rose, it's been awhile." she said to the empty room. She grinned "Guess what? Finally got to use those candles you got us again, I guess I was wrong... about…" Behemoth looked around at her room, the soft light, the expensive whisky. She remembered the look on Olivai's face when she suggested that they go to her room. It was quick, but it was there, the hesitation, uncertainty, a moment of thought, trying to figure a way out. Olivai didn't really want to be alone with her, just wanted to shower in peace.

Behemoth ground her teeth, heat flooding her face. She snapped the overhead lights on, squinting through the brightness, and quickly got rid of every candle, pinching out the flames and dumping them back into the box she'd found them in and tossing it into a dark corner of her closet.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Behemoth muttered, berating herself as she cleaned any trace of the candles from the main room, "Of course she doesn't want that, don't be an idiot, Miri."

The sound of the shower cut off from the other side of the wall. Behemoth quickly tossed the box of candles into her bedroom and vaulted over the couched, punching the remote's power button with her thumb to turn on the holoscreen just a bare second before Olivai emerged. From the bathroom. The ref called a foul on one of the 'mechs fighting.

"Oh come on!" Behemoth flipped off the screen, "That was a clean hit!" She took a pull of her drink. And then a quiet sigh of relief. Olivai didn't seem to notice anything.

A _ding_ from her communicator drew Behemoth's attention. She shook the memories from her mind and pulled it out. She had a text. Her eyebrows rose, it was from Olivai.

 **Olivai: Heyyyy :)**

 **Behemoth: Hi**

 **Olivai: You shoukd come to thebar!1**

 **Behemoth: Are you drunk?**

 **Olivai: :) :) :) :)**

Behemoth sighed, another _ding_ marked Olivai sending her location. Behemoth checked her map, it was an inexpensive place, but not the kind that would attract Satyr. Bad food, cheap booze, but nothing terrible. Behemoth turned down the first street and headed to Olivai.

Behemoth walked down the short set of stairs that lead into the bar Olivai and her shift were at. Low ceilings, exposed structural beams, and brushed metal chairs and tables gave the place a gritty industrial feel that Behemoth decided that she liked, even if her hair touched the lowest of the beams already. As soon as Behemoth walked in, a packed corner of the bar exploded into cheers and warm welcomes. Far inside that corner, Olivai shot out of her chair and violently punched the air. 'I told you I could get her! WHOOO!." Brigette, Olivai's bunkmate, pulled her down waved Behemoth over, grinning all the while.

Behemoth chuckled and crossed the bar. It wasn't too full outside this corner, but it looked like a significant portion of the junior staff had all come together. Almost 50 people filled the side of the room, all wearing the badge of the Golden Hand on their coats. Most of them looked in awe as she passed, the rest in fear. No doubt victims of her slightly exaggerated adventures. Well, most were exaggerated. She did spot a young engineer cradle his arm unconsciously, glaring at her as she passed, but she barely noticed, she made a beeline for Olivai's table.

"Olivai." Behemoth nodded at the drunk mechtech. Her head rolled heavily, and she had a sleepy grin splashed on her face.

"Oh heeeey, Be, how you doin'?" Olivai snapped her fingers and made finger guns at Behemoth. An audible groan went around the table.

A server appeared with a chair for her and Behemoth sat down. "Your best whiskey, please, One ice cube." The server bustled away and Behemoth turned to the table. "How's everybody doing? You guys are shift 7 right? You do good work."

"I'm engineering," Brigette said quickly. "But I bunk with Oli, so I'm here. And this is Henckels, Vhann , Bron, Shuun, Mattais, and Stiles." As Brigette spoke each one waved, but Shuun just nodded her head cooly.

"Good to meet you all," Behemoth said warmly. "Having a good night?" She looked at Olivai, who swayed in her seat between Brigette and Stiles, a tall, lanky man who was all arms and legs.

"Mmm, yeah," Olivai said, with her eyes closed. She dropped her head to the brushed steel table and snuggled into it gratefully. "Hmmm," she murmured, "cold." a round of smiles went around the table, shared between Olivai and Behemoth.

The server returned with a glass of bright amber liquid, one finger deep, with a single large cube of ice sitting in the middle of it. Behemoth took a sip and smiled up at the server, a rather attractive young woman with bright blue eyes and bright blonde hair in a bun. "Another in a few minutes, but make it a double." the server smiled back and nodded, making a note on her pad. Behemoth took a look around the amused faces. Then to Olivai, who had exactly two bottles of beer around her, and was currently pressing her forehead into the table, rolling side to side to keep the coolness evenly distributed. "Ok," Behemoth started. "I may have exaggerated when I said she drank me under the table." The table erupted into laughter and everyone raised a glass. Everyone except Shuun and Mattais, The former just glared at Behemoth, while the latter looked more worried than anything else. Behemoth quickly downed her drink, grimaced at their "best" Whiskey, and put the glass down hard with a _clack_. The ice clattered musically in the glass. "You want proof?" She demanded a roar of laughter went around their side of the bar.

Behemoth swayed slightly in her seat. Her seat was on the floor, but that didn't matter. It was her's. Sitting next to her seat was a thoroughly drunk Brigette. Her head was tipped back all the way and her eyes were closed. On the other side, Olivai sat with her head on Behemoth's shoulder, out cold long since. The bar was not too dissimilar from a warzone. Bodies were everywhere, Her knuckles hurt, someone was moaning, and the sound of a stomach being emptied somewhere it likely shouldn't be.

"I don't feel so good." Brigette mumbled.

"It was probably that ninth shot." Behemoth said with a smirk.

"Mmhn, don't remind-" Brigette put her hand over her mouth and surged to her feet, running towards the head.

Behemoth chuckled as the young engineer left and closed her own eyes, relishing in the washed out, floating feeling of being drunk. Olivai mumbled something and pushed her head further into her shoulder, resting her forehead on Behemoth's neck. Behemoth wrapped an arm around her and sighed, this was a nice feeling too. The sounds of work boots scuffing through debris made Behemoth crack an eyelid. Mattais stood over her, looking very sober, but as tired as ever.

He jerked his head to the door. "Talk." he said simply. Behemoth sighed. She could just say no, this was a wonderfully comfortable seat she'd found herself… but no. The hard glint in Mattais eyes was clear enough, he wouldn't take no for an answer, and Behemoth knew better than to piss off a lead mechtechs.

Behemoth gently, regretfully, pried Olivai's head off her shoulder and laid her on the floor, pulling someone's leg into place to act as a pillow.

Behemoth knew the night was cold, breath misted out of both of their mouths, and the few people still out at this hour where tightly and heavily bundled in warm clothing, but Behemoth, wearing only a tank top sighed in relief when she got outside. Delicious coolness wrapped her up. "What'dya want to talk about?" Behemoth asked. Mattais, in his Golden Hand coat, crossed his arms, leaning against a lamp post. Behemoth didn't think it was from the cold.

"Olivai."

Behemoth waited for him to continue. "What about her?" she said finally. Clearly, this was going to be a drawn-out conversation.

"I like her," Mattais said bluntly, Behemoth blinked. "Good worker. Learns fast. Cares." He stared at Behemoth, there wasn't heat there, it didn't sound like the speech of a man telling someone to back away from his intended conquest. More like…

"Not romantically!" Behemoth blurted. Mattais arched one eyebrow at her. "Like… like… a niece or something." Mattais sighed. "Hey," Behemoth defended herself. "I'm drunk, shut up."

"You **are** drunk," Mattais said. "Olivai too. Wants to drink as much as you."

"Psh, good luck," Behemoth grunted.

Mattais poked her in the forehead with one stiff finger. Behemoth swayed back enough that she had to take a step to steady herself. "Bad goal," he said sharply. "Been here long enough to know, you're not good for her."

Behemoth narrowed her eyes at him. "You telling me to stay away from Olivai?"

"No." Mattais shrugged. "Can't control you. Can't control Olivai. But I'm right." He reached inside his coat and pulled out a burnished steel case. He flipped it open with one hand and pulled out a slim cigar and an ancient zippo lighter.

"Hm?" He offered the case to Behemoth. Behemoth slipped a cigar out of the case and stuck it between her lips. Mattais flicked the lighter open and a small flame burst into being, a tiny speck of heat in the chilled night. Behemoth leaned forward to dip the cigar into the flame and breathed in gently. The cigar's tip glowed, and Behemoth blew out a cloud of blue-grey smoke. Mattais lit his own, and two thin streamers of smoke trailed up into the night sky.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about it." Behemoth said grimly. "I don't think I'm uh, 'her type', exactly" She shrugged her shoulders, the cold was seeping through her skin, now.

"Maybe" Mattais admitted. "She is young, perhaps she does not whom what her type is."

Behemoth took a long drag of the cigar. "Ok, you're right, I'm not the best choice in the worlds." Smoke billowed as she spoke. "But you can't say I'm worse than that twat Caius." They both chuckled.

Mattais smiled and raised his cigar into the night air. "A twat," he agreed

"He's just going to try and bed her so that he can say he did it and leave her heartbroken." The smoke in her lungs fueled the fire in her voice. Her hands seized in an imaginary grip. "Makes me wanna snap his twiggy little arms."

Mattais flicked the butt of the cigar off into the night, the glowing tip spinning end over end into the darkness before fading. "Violence isn't needed." He said. "But he is bad, worse. Agreed."

Behemoth flicked her own cigar. "No matter how Olivai feels, I care about her. I can deal with being her friend, but I won't let anyone hurt her."

Mattais stood up and gestured to the bar, "You're OK." he said. "Better than I thought you'd be." It was a frank, but honest compliment.

"I wouldn't go that far," Behemoth muttered wryly. Heading back inside. "But I'll take it."

The bar was still in a state of utter disarray, the major difference being a number of waitresses and bartenders were scattered around the area, like med-techs doing triage.

Behemoth was stopped by a large, man with hair, a short beard, and an alarmingly square head. He did not look happy.

"You responsible for dis?" He said, his accent clipping his words short.

"Eh, kinda." Behemoth shrugged. "Has everyone paid?"

Nah." The man said, clearly upset. "I needs some kinda recompense for this! S'posed t'close hours ago and ye keeps me open all night?"

"Alright, alright, alright," Behemoth closed her eyes against the onslaught of words. "Jesus, I'm too drunk for this. How much are you owed?"

The man - the owner she assumed - gave a figure that made Behemoth crack an eyelid to look at him in disbelief. "Why you-"

"Joseph." Mattais appeared behind behemoth, nodding to the owner.

"Matty!?" Joseph threw his arms around the mechtech, enveloping him a hug that lifted his feet off the ground. "I didn't know ye was here, brudder!" Joseph exclaimed, his accent growing thicker by the word "What're y'at? Dis yer crew 'ere?"

"Hand had some furlough, we pulled a mission at the pole."

"Hm." Joseph scratched at a short beard noisily. "Didn't call."

Mattais shrugged.

Joseph sighed and looked around at the general destruction that'd befallen his establishment. "Alright, I guess I can let it go, for old times sake." Mattais shook his head and handed over a C-bill chit.

"Yer a good man, Matty boy!" Joseph roared, slapping the mechtech on the back and hauling the man into another bear hug. Mattais took it all stoically. Behemoth hid a grin behind her hand, the sombre mechtech looked like a tired old dog being badgered by an excitable bear.

Once Joseph was walking away, happily counting his C-bills, Behemoth arched an eyebrow at Mattais. "He's your brother?"

"Not blood." Mattais shrugged. "Just family." That was all he seemed to want to say on the matter, She didn't push it.

Members of the Golden Hand were stirring, and Mattais went to Olivai, kneeling at her side and gently shaking her shoulder.

The young Mechtech cracked an eyelid. "Hmm? Whenizzit?"

"Time to go," Mattais said simply, offering a hand.

"M'kay." Mattais helped Olivai up to her feet and slung her arm over his shoulders.

"I'll take her back to the _Argo_ ," Mattias told Behemoth. "It's not that I don't trust you, but-"

"-but you don't trust me," Behemoth finished for him with a wry grin. Mattais nodded and half carried, more than half, really, Olivai out of the bar and into the night's cold.

Brigette appeared from the door to the head. Wiping her chin and clearly still drunk. The young engineer picked her way across the bar, kicking more than one person by accident as she did.

"Hee-Heyy, Beh- Hemouth" She stuttered. Blinking heavily. Behemoth stared at the young engineer for a moment. Her mind was clearing, from the walk and night air, but indecision still battled back and forth.

"Nuh-uh." Behemoth held Brigette gently away at arm's length. "You are way too cute, and waay to drunk for that. Bad idea."

A heady tide of red infused Brigette's face, adding the what the alcohol had already put there. "You- you think I'm cute?"

"Yes, and sleeping with subordinates is always a bad idea." the hypocrisy burned on her tongue more than the cigar smoke had. "Go find a buddy and head back to the Argo."

Brigette nodded unsteadily and tottered off, "Oli! Be my Buddy!" she shouted into the bar. Behemoth chuckled as she found someone to head home with. She might not be a people person, but sleeping with the bunkmate of your… Behemoth frowned, what was Olivai to her? Best friend? Conquest? Intended?

"Uughh" Behemoth plopped down on the floor and cradled her head. Maybe it wasn't so clear after all.

"Are you ok, miss?" A timid voice asked from above. Behemoth looked up to see the young server that had taken her first order. Her bun was taken down and she looked tired.

Behemoth smiled back with her best smile and pushed her wild hair back over her head. The small smile she got for her efforts was all the information she needed.

"I'm alright…?"

"Kara."

"Kara, I think I'm doing just fine." Behemoth said, carefully standing, Kara only came up to just past her chin. Behemoth took a half step forward and Kara tilted her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. She smelled like cinnamon. "Tell me, Kara, have you ever been inside a battlemech?"

Kara's eyes twinkled. "I haven't."

Satyr groaned as awareness flooded his sleepy mind. His head pounded and his tongue tasted like a desert. He was laying on something hard, and.. Why did his back and neck hurt so much? He opened his eyes carefully. Bright light battered his eye, stinging. The Deck of the Argo greeted him. That was good, at least he didn't have to get back to the ship. He pushed himself up and took stock of his surroundings. He was on the floor of an officer's quarters, not his, annoyingly. A bedroom. He turned behind him "Where?-" Words shrivelled and died in his mouth.

Darius and Sumire smiled back at him, from their bed, which they were in. He was in his XO's and lead navigator's bedroom.

"Oh shit." Satyr's hands snapped down to his body. He was fully clothed. "Oh thank god." Darius threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

"Don't worry commander, you were the perfect gentleman," Darius said. Sumire chuckled.

Satyr drew himself across the floor to sit, back against the bulkhead. "How the hell did I get here?"

"It was quite the emergency, apparently," Sumire told him. "You came bursting in. Using your Command Override code, and demanded that you be allowed to sleep here because your room was 'enemy territory'. When we asked what was wrong you would just say. 'No no no, can't think about it, don't make me, please.'" She almost sounded a little worried. "You just muttered that until you passed out, a minute later.

Satyr hauled himself up to his feet. "How much did I have to drink last night?"

"You and Kamea joined us at the Vale last night. There was an open bar…"

"Ah."

You two left together," Darius recalled. "I don't think you'd have noticed being stabbed."

"Ughh. Sorry, guys. I'd better get presentable. Also, I apologize ahead of time for any rumours that will undoubtedly occur should anyone see me 'walk of shame' it out of your quarters."

Darius shrugged. "We'll just say it was Sumire's hormones, made her man-crazy." Darius winced as Sumire smacked the back of his head.

Satyr opened the doors to Gamma Pod and peeked out. The hall was empty. He breathed a sigh of relief and slipped out into the hall. Quickly making his way back to his own rooms. He knew he was a dishevelled mess. Hair in a tangle, wearing wrinkled, slept in clothes, smelling of wine and whiskey, but luckily, most crew members didn't come to the officers quarters, so it was unlikely to meet someone that hadn't already seen him in this state.

His luck was with him the whole way, it was still early in the day cycle, and except for the skeleton crew still at work, everyone else was either sleeping off a hangover or just sleeping in. He got to the door of his quarters without seeing a single person.

His hand was over the door controls when his door snapped open with a hydraulic hiss.

Kamea. Her deep brown hair was in a hopelessly tangled snarl, her coat held loosely in one hand, boots in the other, and the buttons of her shirt in the wrong holes, giving her a lopsided look. Her eyes, already looking harried, widened into full terror when she saw Satyr.

"I- uh, I don't…" She gave up trying to find an excuse and bolted. Very nearly sprinting down the hall and quickly disappearing around the corner, leaving a dumbfounded Satyr gaping.

He remained in the hall, staring at the corner she'd turned for several minutes until

Yang came around it, looking in confusion back the way he came, then marched towards him. He stopped and gave Satyr an odd look. "Y'OK, boss?"

"Hm?" Satyr shook his head free of the many **vivid** images that were rolling through it. "Oh yeah. I'm… I'm alright."

Yang leaned in to look inside Satyr's room. It was a state of general disarray. A dark set of undergarments lay on the room's couch. "I bet."Yang grinned and clapped Satyr on the shoulder as he continued past towards the mechlab.

Satyr entered his rooms. Modest, for the commander of a successful Merch outfit. Simple. He picked up the black bra from the couch, looked at it, then back the way Kamea had left. "Y'know, drunk Adris?" He told the empty room. "I'm impressed." he dropped the garment and shed his clothes, heading to his bathroom. It was a problem to work out after a shower, he decided.

When Satyr strode into the command centre, head clearer, clean, wearing freshly laundered clothing, he felt a thousand time better. Darius, looking irritatingly not-hungover, waved him over. He and Decker stood next to the com station.

"We got something on who threw that party back on Coromidir." Satyr was suddenly very alert. "Dekker untangle where the hack originated?" Dekker coughed.

"Well, Witness helped." He muttered.

"They're a prodigy, Dek, don't compare yourselves." He grinned and smacked their tech specialist on the back playfully. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere familiar," Darius said. "Solaris VII"

"A beef from a sore loser?" Satyr frowned sceptically. "I haven't competed in years,"

"Yeah, but at you were fighting amongst the elites, they take losing hard, I hear," Darius added.

Satyr shook his head and pinched his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, I don't buy it. The initial attack was for Kamea, not me."

"But this is clearly a connection to you, boss," Dekker said. "Kamea hasn't set foot on Solaris VII. you were a reigning champ for years."

Satyr leaned back on the bulkhead and thought for a moment. Dekker and Darius traded wary looks. "Sooo…" Dekker started.

"It's a trap," Kamea's voice, pure and clear, rang out into the command room. She stood at the entrance, immaculately dressed, her hair brushed and in a long, simple braid that hung over her shoulder. She marched into the command room with all the confidence of a queen with an army behind her.

"One for both of us," Satyr agreed. "The attack on Coromidir was a brush fire. Designed to force you into hiding."

Kamea's shoulder brushed Satyr's. "And right next to you." She grimaced. "Easier to take us both out together." She looked up at Satyr, "Who have we both angered enough to want to kill us?"

Satyr blew out an ignorant gust through his lips. "I'm sure our individual lists are long enough, but both of us? No one alive." Ostergaard. Satyr didn't appreciate the man bringing down the entire Taurian military on him, but he had understood it. Kamea rubbed her upper arms, as if cold. Fighting Victoria had nearly torn her apart during the Restoration. It was in poor taste to mourn a traitor, but Satyr remembered the small funeral that Victoria was given, and the hours of tears that'd followed.

Dekker sat on the Com station's chair, rubbing his stump through his pants. "So what do we do? just stay away from Solaris? If they're trying to draw us into a trap we just don't go into it, right?"

"Whoever set this trap went to enormous difficulty to arrange it. I doubt they would simply." Kamea crossed her arms, propping one hand up to tap on her lips as she thought aloud. "Is there a way to get to Solaris without anyone noticing? Spoofed ID tags, or a pirate point?"

Dekker leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I could fake the _Argo's_ Id on the jump logs. That would fool anyone checking the records, but if our unknown friend has any kind of surveillance at the standard exit points it'd be pointless. We're not exactly inconspicuous."

"So a pirate point it is," Darius said. "Sumire will be ecstatic."

Dekker put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll lay out my couch for ya." They both chuckled.

Satyr smiled. But didn't feel it. He was going back to one of the first homes he'd ever had.

And it was going to hurt.

Olivai stirred and grimaced. The familiar agony of at least one hangover filling her mind. Her blankets were very warm, and heavy, but sooo soft. She had the morning off. There was no need to get out of bed yet. She smiled and stretched happily under her covers. She couldn't _quite_ remember the whole night, but she remembered most of it. Near the end, after Behemoth had ordered another round for the whole bar, it began to get a little hazy. It had definitely been a good night, she'd laughed, cried, drank, cheered. All with her best friend on the Argo. and her crew, who were really beginning to warm up to her! She didn't even do anything that she'd regretted. She couldn't imagine how people did crazy things while drunk that they'd never do sober, For her it just made her giggly and relaxed.

Olivai's very warm, heavy blanket shifted next to her and sighed contentedly in her ear.

Olivai's eyes snapped open.

Brigette's face greeted her, eyes closed and deeply asleep. Her hair was mussed from sleep. She was very, very close, and - Olivai checked under the covers.

"Yep," she said, terror rooting deep in her chest. "Naked. H'ooooh gods."

"Mh?" Brigette's nose wrinkled and twitched. "Oli, shut up, I'm trying to sleep-" Her hand swung up to strike something above her but overextended into the air with a jerk. Brigette frowned, her eyes still closed, her hand blindly reaching for the bunk that should be above her.

Olivai watched, in slow motion, as Brigette's confusion drove her more and more into wakefulness. She didn't want to be caught, but she didn't know how to escape, her bunkmate was between her and freedom. Brigette turned onto her back and opened her eyes. She looked up, confusion briefly painting her face, then, in a moment that seemed to take an hour, she turned and looked at Olivai, who'd drawn the covers up to her eyes.

They held eye contact for another age.

Brigette's eyes widened and she said, in barely a whisper, "Fuck."


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for taking so long to finish these. havn't had a lot of time to work on these projects, recently. My time have been going into a pilot, a feature script, and my new webcomic, / *COUGH* Shameless self promotion *COUGH* It's just starting, and myself and the artist both kinda suck, to be honest. But we're treating it as a "Sink or swim/trial by fire," kind of things. Learn by fucking it up a bunch. Also the site is a little barebones. so yeah. Anyway, a chapter! Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Mattais slumped over his third cup of coffee in the far corner of the mess. With the morning off, it was nice to be able to take it slow. The mess was largely empty, only a handful of people had the wherewithal to be away this early in the day cycle, and most of them were working already. Two other people sat in the mess, thankfully both were far from him.

Mattais quietly sat in his little corner of quiet and sipped his coffee, idly flipping through a mechtech manual open on the table in front of him beside the remains of his breakfast. A large bagel and an orange grown in the Argo's own hydroponics labs. It was a rare luxury to have fresh fruit in space. One that Mattais was always eager to exploit.

The doors closest to the crew quarters snapped open and Olivai and Brigette, her bunkmate, hurried through. They looked… harried, like they were being chased, and they'd never been the closest of friends, but now they looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but in each other's company, but were for some reason stuck together. They kept their heads together and quickly swiped some food and sat at a table near his, facing away. Neither of them seemed to notice Mattais. Which was fine. He wasn't good with people normally, they were so… intense. Worried and anxious people even more so, as these two clearly were.

"What the hell happened?" Olivai demanded. "Why were you-"

"I don't know!" Brigette hissed. "The last thing I remember was Behemoth buying shots… then I was throwing up in the bathroom, someone called me cute..." She trailed off. "Then waking up with you."

"I remember the shots…" Olivai said pensively, scrubbing her hand through her short hair. "Nothing after that." Her eyes took on a wide, terrified look. "Do you think we-?"

"Was there any…" Brigette hesitated, "evidence?"

Olivai tilted her head. "Evidence? What do you mean? Of course not. Girls don't have…" She spent a moment trying to find an appropriate wording. "... _evidence._ "

Brigette breathed a sigh of relief. "No, trust me. If we had, uh… we'd have noticed." She turned slightly pink as she spoke.

 _I shouldn't be here._ Mattais thought. This was not a conversation that he should be overhearing. But if he were to move they would notice him, which would be much worse. Mattais picked up the mech manual, they were due to add a hatchetman to their arsenal soon, and he needed to know the machine inside out before then.

Olivai didn't seem convinced. "How do we know, though?" true, deep anguish filled her voice. "I don't… I haven't..." Mattais tried to stop up his ears, burying his head further into the manual, and sipping his coffee.

Brigette's voice hitched slightly. "You're a-?" Mattais heard the sounds of fabric sliding against fabric. A hug. "Oh, Oli, I'm sorry. I swear we didn't. I know we didn't. You're fine, ok?"

Mattais tried no to hear the small sniffles that emanated from the other side of the manual. None of his business.

"Alright…" Oli's voice sounded tiny. Bending over the corner of the manual showed Brigette holding Olivai in a tight hug, gently, protectively smoothing back her hair.

Brigette held Olivai out by the shoulders to look her in the eyes. "Let's hit the lounge, watch a cheesy vid, then have lunch. Alright?"

Olivai nodded. Then looked around. The corner quickly bent back up. "Do you remember where Behemoth ended up?"

"Not a clue," Brigette said. "Bet it was somewhere awesome, though.

"You know, she isn't as crazy as you seem to think. I think she's just a little misunderstood," Olivai sounded a little defensive about the older Mechwarrior.

"I distinctly remember her participating in a knife throwing drinking game." Brigette replied bluntly. "That's insane, and awesome."

"Ok, I admit she's a little extreme…" Olivai trailed off with an unspoken "but". She seemed to Have something to say, but wasn't sure how to say it.

Chairs screeched against the deck and Mattais breathed a sigh of relief. Why were people so much effort? Mechs were easy, they came with instruction books. Wires from terminal A into port B. People didn't. They confused him. Olivai and Brigette footsteps receded from his table, cut off by the sound of a door closing behind them. He threw back the last of his coffee and bent the corner back to check if Olivai and Brigette were truly gone. He stood up and went to the kitchen. Which took up an entire wall of the mess. He filled up his thermos, leaving the cap off to allow the worst of the heat to coil off the surface of the black gold on journey, and headed out, the hatchetman manual tucked under his arm. Thermos in one hand and stifling a yawn in the other.

Mattais sauntered to the mechlab. There was no hint of rush, no need to rush. It was nice to just go as he wished. He could get started early and take his time, really enjoy the work, instead of rushing through it all for the sake of productivity.

The Mechlab was unusually, but expectedly quiet. Only a handful of people were in the hanger, and those that were weren't doing work, really, just making sure nothing blew up until the larger workforce got back from furlough. The lance from the latest mission was still in sorry shape, the Atlas II particularly. That would be his job. Likely his and Olivai's. Mattais hopped up on a lift and jolted up to the Assault scaffold, the tallest set of catwalks that were used to access mech cockpits. The head would be the first point of attack. " _Start at the head and work your way down." Chief Virtannen told Mattais as he dropped a wrench in the young boy's hands. An eleven year old Mattais looked up at the Chief with wide eyes. "That way when you're done you're already on the ground." He patted Mattais' head, thankfully with his real hand._ Mattais blinked away the memory. The Atlas loomed over him. The head battered with AC fire and laser burns, cratering in the armour from missile strikes and a cracks and tears from melee attacks. It was one of the most damaged mechs he'd ever seen come back with a living mechwarrior inside it. Mattais shook his head and mounted the scaffolding stairs that lead up to the cockpit proper, some 5 meters above the catwalk. At the top, Mattais keyed the access code on the cockpit lock. The internals were going to be a mess. Even if he didn't get the actual wiring started, it would be a good idea to start developing a plan and order of operations for the team-

The Atlas' cockpit opened with a heavy _clunk_ , and swung forward smoothly on oiled hinges.

"Oh, hey Matty," Behemoth said, lounging in the mech's chair. This would not be considered odd if not for two things. Firstly, she was not alone, a young waitress that Mattais recognized from Joseph's bar was, straddling her, back to the hatch, secondly, they were both naked. When the hatch opened, the young waitress buried her head in Behemoth's shoulder, hiding her face and turning away. Mattais sighed, stepped back and turned from the cockpit's opening so he wasn't intruding.

"It's Mattais," He corrected her flatly. "Are you… finished?" he asked tiredly.

"Are you offering to wait?" Behemoth's voice came out of the cockpit with a smile attached. Sounds of shuffling and people untangling came out of the mech.

"Just- move your leg there…" Behemoth grunted.

"These things are so cramped." The waitress sounded strained.

"Last night, that was a good thing," Behemoth muttered dryly, making sure Mattais heard. He sighed.

The waitress emerged, wearing a hastily buttoned shirt, dark pants, and a rather harried smile on her red face. She hurried passed and down the scaffold stairs, where she paused. "Left, take the elevator to the deck and first door on your right." Mattais pointed at the lift and the waitress nodded gratefully. "Thanks," she said a little breathless. Then she was gone.

A smug Behemoth emerged from the mech, pulling down a simple long sleeve T and wearing rough cargo pants. "What?" she reacted to Mattais' reproachful look. "I don't owe anyone anything."

"You do not," Mattais agreed. He studied Behemoth for a moment. "It did not help, did it?"

Behemoth frowned and shoved her hands in her pockets, walking off. "I don't know what you're talking about," she growled.

"Mmmhm." Mattais took a long sip from his thermos as the mechwarrior left in something very similar to a flounce. She zipped down to the main deck and jogged to catch up with the waitress, at the mechlab doors. "Hey, Kara! Let me walk you to-" the rest of her speech was cut off by the doors, leaving Mattais effectively, blessedly, alone.

Mattais glanced inside the cockpit, taking a quick mental picture and beginning to plan his work. He stepped back, closed the hatch, and set off to the hospital wing. A mechtech from a different team glanced at him curiously as he passed. "Disinfectant," he replied curtly.

* * *

The Leopard silently slipped through local space, returning from dropping off the civilians who'd found their way onto the Argo during the hand's night of furlough. Saytr watched the ship slide into place from the observation deck. A muted _thunk_ echoed through the floor as the Leopard docked and clamped in place.

"Leopard aboard, commander," Sumire's voice came through the PA from the Navigation deck. She had wanted to be the sole pilot for the leopard, even after learning she was pregnant. It had taken a direct order from him to ensure she stayed on the ship. She still worked as the navigator, but was no longer running combat missions. A fact that Saytr was only sometimes happy about, as it seemed their new pilot had been a little… exaggeratory, on his resume. But he hadn't killed anyone, though, so he could stay.

Saytr keyed his radio. "Set course for Solair IV"

"Roger," Suimre said, and below him, the turning planet slowly began to drift away from him.

"Not Seven?" Dekker asked, entering the observation deck as the planet shrank below them.

The tiny ball of rock peeled away into the black until it was only a bright speck.

"Not yet. How long to Solaris?" The last was into the radio.

"A while... " Darius joined the channel. "We'll take a hit this month."

"How long?"

"Over a month, 38 days of travel."

Saytr waved a hand absently. "That's what our savings are for. Worst case we sell a mech or two in storage." He thought for a minute. "Or seven. We've got literally tonnes of em." Saytr glanced at the data pd in Dekker's hands. "Alright, you have your orders. Saytr, signing off." The radio clicked off and Saytr turned to Dekker. "You find everything?"

Dekker nodded with a barely contained grin. "Mhm, all the security footage of your and High-Lady Arano's return to the argo last night, stitched together for your viewing pleasure." He handed over the data pad and helpfully hit "play".

The data pad showed slightly grainy footage shot front extreme, high angles. The main airlock into the Argo opened and Saytr and Kamea poured into the ship like a spilled glass. The ship they were coming in from wasn't the leopard. A fact that Saytr was rather glad of. He'd noticed the charge on his accounted earlier this morning, he'd chartered a private taxi into orbit. He and Kamea stumbled out and Drunk Saytr flung a credit chit into the airlock, visibly giggling. Saytr winced. He had a bad habit of overtipping when he was drunk. That driver could probably afford to buy a small title, now.

The two of them stumbled through the halls of the Argo. Both of them laughing, Drunk Kamea holding onto his coat such that sometimes it was the only thing keeping her from falling. They made it through to the officer's quarters, making a quick stop to the officer's mess for another bottle of something. And the drunk pair soon found themselves at Saytr's door. They stood there for a long moment, heads together, swaying in time to the alcohol singing in their veins. They were speaking, about what Saytr didn't know. His security system didn't include audio, and even if it had, Drunk Saytr and Drunk Kamea were whispering, faces only a few inches away from each other. Kamea stepped back, her back against his door. And smiled, a clear flash of white. Her hands were working at her clothing and she beckoned once, before opening the hatch and disappearing inside. Drunk Saytr stood outside his own quarters for a long moment. Then turned and ran away at a dead sprint. Dekker's finger tapped the screen to pause it on a clear shot of Saytr's face, eyes wide with terror, in a full tilt run, as if fleeing something terrible. Dekker's efforts to keep a straight face failed him and he burst into laughter. He wheezed and gasped, for a short moment even had to support himself on the railing or risking falling.

"I know she can be tough to work for, Boss, but she's-," He wheezed again. "She's not **that** bad!"

Saytr scowled. "I assume I know the rest?"

Dekker took a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah, you bust into Darius and Sumire's place and hole up til morning. Mighty honourable of you, boss, If I may say so." He was still chuckling gently, but his words were honest. "I know that you have a past-"

"She's married," Saytr interrupted flatly. "That's that. Now I know what happened." He felt the scowl twist his face in distaste. "Any other copies of it?" he asked.

Dekker shook his head. "Scrubbed it from the databanks after I copied it to my personal system."

"Good, send it to me and then forget you'd ever seen it," He ordered.

Dekker's mirth was completely faded. He knew a serious order when he heard it. "Yes, Boss." a short tattoo of tapping on the data pad completed his orders. "If you don't mind me asking…"

"She's married to a Taurian Noble," Saytr said. "If it came out that she even **tried** to have a night with a dashing mercenary captain…"

"Her husband might not be too happy with her," Dekker finished the thought. "Then why do you want to keep it?"

Saytr smirked. "And lose the chance embarrass her?" he asked. _And prove that she still loves you,_ a little voice whispered in his mind. _Even after all you've done._ Saytr banished the voice.

Saytr sighted and leaned his forearms on the observation's deck railing. Watching the void. He tried to ignore the feeling of the void watching him.

* * *

Olivai peered into the mech simulation pods with a sour expression on her face almost every pod was occupied, and none of them were marked with Behemoth's name. She wasn't here, either.

"C'mon, Oli, lets just get lunch. I'm starving." Brigette said, at her side. She'd followed Olivai out of the lounge. Oli

"Not yet, just one more room." Olivai ducked out of the simulation room and hurried down the hall, she felt a little heavy, the Argo was accelerating at 1.7 G. They were going somewhere important, it seems, but not an emergency, or they'd be pushing past 2. Most of the crew barely seemed to notice at all, Olivai was still unused to anything higher than 1. Her limbs felt like her skin was made of lead, and a deep, aching fatigue had set in from just walking about the Argo.

"We'll have to report for duty soon, too" Brigette grumbled, stomping after her. Brigette was a solid woman, clearly used to the rigors of space travel. Her long hours in the engineering section showed. Even hidden under loose clothing the strength of her movements was obvious.

Olivai ignored her and kept searching. She hadn't seen her friend all morning, and was beginning to get worried. What if she hadn't made it back on time? What would she do if her best friend was gone? She couldn't handle being all alone again. A slightly guilty look back reminded her that she **wasn't** alone, not really. But Brigette was not Behemoth, as harsh as that sounded. Olivai just felt… better when she was with Behemoth. Safer? The why didn't really matter, she hadn't seen her best friend since a night drinking and she was worried, that was all the reason anyone would need.

Olivai checked the second lounge, the library, then the first lounge again, in case she'd returned to catch the end of the vid that was playing. She even peeked into the officer's mess, in gamma pod. A small room, compared to the others, it might only fit twenty people if they were close to one another. It was filled with well made, comfortable furniture and with a rack of expensive looking bottles. Glitch was the only one there. The dark haired woman daintily sipping tea from a flowery porcelain teacup and saucer, her pinky on each hand raised. Glitch and Olivai locked eyes for a moment. Glitch rendered a glare of such intensity that Olivia began to sweat on the spot.

"Tell. No one," Glitch whispered in a sharp hiss. Olivai nodded and ducked out immediately and quickly made for anywhere that was not there.

"What was in there?" Brigette asked, frowning at Olivai's pace.

"Nothing," Olivai said firmly. "Nothing at all. Ever."

"Ooookay," Brigette said, then caught Olivai's shoulder in a strong grip. "Hey, slow down. Look, we're not going to find her. Why don't we just get some lunch and report to Yang. I'm starving and you need a break."

"A break?" Olivia asked. "What do you mean, I'm fine."

"You're sweating." Brigette pointed out. "And your legs are shaking. You've been walking around with 70% of your body weight tacked onto you and you're clearly not used to it."

"I'll be just fine." Olivai jutted her chin up haughtily. She was a Mechtech, and a damn good one, she wouldn't been kept abed by some silly acceleration. To prove as such she took a firm step forward.

Her legs promptly folded out from under her and she collapsed to the floor. The world fled into blackness.

When Olivai's eyes opened she wasn't in the hall. She didn't know where she was, the only thing she could see was a pale expanse of what she assumed was ceiling. Her body was wrapped up in a silky soft covering, and a rythmic _beep beep beep_ filled the air around her.

"You're awake!" A relieved voice exclaimed next to her. Olivai turned her head, and winced as muscles cried out in pain. It felt like fiber of muscle in her body had been weightlifting. Behemoth sat next to her. Trying and failing to hide a worried look. Her red hair seemed a little messier than normal, and she was wearing a simple long sleeve shirt and her standard cargo pants.

"Oh heeey, B." Olivai slowly reached out a hand, it felt like it weighed as much as an Atlas. Clouds of sleep began to clear, and Olivai brought her hand to her head. "Where am I?"

"Hospital wing," Behemoth's voice was tightly wound. "Docs told me you fainted. You were running around without getting used to the accel weight." Behemoth frowned. " What were you thinking? You need to be more careful. You shouldn't push yourself when you're not ready for it. Doc's got you on bed rest for the next day, and accel rehab for a week." All delivered with the tired exasperation of an older sister explaining something obvious to a younger sibling.

Behemoth's reproach stung. "I was just trying to find you." Olivai said, feeling very small indeed. "I didn't know where you were and I was afraid you got left behind or something." heat flushed across Olivai face as Behemoth laughed. Laughed!

"Ha! They wouldn't leave me." Behemoth dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand. "Don't be stupid, I'm the best mechwarrior the Hand has got."

Olivai's embarrassment flashed into anger. "Stupid?!" she spat hotly. "Well excuse me for worrying about you!"

Behemoth blinked and her smile dropped suddenly. "What? N-no, I just mean that-"

"I know what you meant!" Olivai said firmly. "You were thinking I'm a silly little girl and I shouldn't worry my _**stupid**_ head about my missing friend!" the last words came out just shy of a shout. She was stupid for worrying about her, was she?

Behemoth's mouth hung open for a moment. "Well I was just-"

"I'm tired." Olivai said primly. "I want to get some sleep." Olivai rolled over and pulled the covers over her shoulder.

"O- ok." Olivai heard the chair legs screech against the floor and boots clunk against the deck. "I'll, uh, see you later." the door hissed open then shut again. Sat in the empty, lonely room, and breathed. Her breathing slowed after a moment, and the room felt very large, large and empty. Friendless. "Stupid," Olivai told the empty room. "Yep, you're definitely stupid." She didn't know if she was talking to behemoth for herself.

* * *

Kamea primly marched down the halls of Gamma pod, dressed in a red coat with gold trimmings that fit her snugly, with dark pants and high boots. Outwardly, Kamea maintained an air of supreme dignity and composure, a trait useful when dealing with the sharks that swim in the courts. Anyone looking at her would see nothing other than a calm and surefooted woman in complete control.

Inside, Kamea was in hell. Her head pounded, her stomach roiled, her tongue felt like it was made of cotton and she her knees felt weak. Worst of all, a deep pit of embarrassment seethed in her gut. Waking up, sprawled on Adris' couch, exposed as she was… the only thing more horrifying was meeting the man at the door after dressing faster than she had ever before. Thankfully, it seemed nothing… untoward had happened. But the fact that, while drunk, she'd tried to… had it been Adris' idea or hers? The worst part was that she couldn't tell. She knew how she felt about him, so did he. But she had to marry for the good of the Reach, and Adris knew that. She'd offered a compromise. Funnily enough that seemed to offend him more than the initial problem. She'd curse his tendency towards tradition if she didn't find it so endearing.

She needed to eat something, and get some coffee in her. But she didn't think she could manage a trip to the crew mess. She generally preferred to eat amongst the people. Or at least in sight of them. But today was not the day for that. She could take her meals in the "officer's mess" - little more than a sitting room with a rather impressive liquor selection. On Kormidir, it would have been barely suited for servants. But here it was the height of luxury. A few clusters of chairs, each centered around a low table, with couches, a private bath, and a large dining table that was more often used for high-stakes gambling. The staff were happy to bring food up to such a distinguished guest. Even more so because she didn't ask them to do it often.

As Kamea approached the Officer's mess she saw two young women leave it. Certainly not officers themselves. Kamea recognized one as the young woman who was present at her first assassination attempt. Olivia? Olivai! Behemoth's subject of affection. She could objectively see what Miranda saw in the girl, though she was hardly Kamea's type. Kamea did not recognise the other woman, a solidly built woman with strong lines. They left before Kamea came close enough to need to introduce herself. For which Kamea was quietly grateful. She was not in a personable mood this morning.

Only Glitch was present in the officer's mess, drinking tea from her favourite set and sitting at one of a handful of high backed armchairs. Without the need for pretext, Kamea collapsed into a chair next to the eccentric Mechwarrior and sighed deeply.

"Hiya!" Glitch said brightly.

"You seem irritatingly happy this morning," Kamea grumbled. "No hangover?"

"Nope!" Glitch said. "I've got a warrant out for me on the last planet we were at so I stayed up here and blended tea!" Kamea nodded, waiting for the twist. "The gunpowder gives it a sharp flavour." Glitch brought the tea cup up to her nose and breathed in deeply. Her eyes fluttering half closed.

"Of course," Kamea said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She had long since given up trying to break any of Glitch unusual habits. She'd had a harder life than most, if she needed to make gunpowder spiced tea to cope, then so be it. A quick call to the mess was all that was needed to place her order, and secure with the knowledge that food was on the way, Kamea relaxed into her chair more thoroughly than was appropriate for a royal. Her eyes drifted closed.

"How's the boss in bed?" Glitch asked conversationally. Kamea's eyes popped open and she jolted up in her seat.

"I- what? No, we didn't. He wasn't there this morning! We didn't-" Kamea snapped her teeth shut before she incriminated herself further.

Glitch looked at her with big, dark eyes. "I mean, you guys were bang'n during the Restoration, right?" The dark haired woman had a look of such utter innocence that it was startling. Kamea slid back down in her chair.

"Right," Kamea said. Glitch didn't know about this morning, only their history. "Yes, well, I would prefer not to speak of that, My private life is… private."

"Sure thing!" Glitch smiled wide and went back to her tea. It was nearly impossible to offend the woman by normal means. But the strangest things could set her off. One time she nearly killed a man for not liking beans.

Kamea's communicator chirped. She fished it out of her trouser pocket to see it was a call from her husband. Kamea fought down a heavy sigh. If this was about his family's need for bloody grandchildren again, she would **howl.** She opened the channel and tried to sound as not-hungover as possible.

"Hello, Husband. How are you?"

"Better than you, I expect," Karadin said, soundeding as if he'd swallowed a steel pole from the wrong end, as always. "Holos of your latest evening with... the Hand are already circulating." He did not sound pleased. Kamea had to fight another sigh. "You realize what position this put me in?"

Kamea frowned. "It puts you in a position of being the defacto ruler of an entire nation while not having your life threatened." Kamea said flatly. "A position many would covet, given the opportunity."

"They were laughing at me in court today," Karadin hissed.

"Then take them in hand," Kamea suggested tiredly. "You rule with the power of house Arano at your back. That is no empty promise. If I were able, I would do it myself. But as I am currently hiding for fear of **assassination** I am otherwise engaged."

"You're more than engaged," Karadin retorted lowly. "You're **married.** To me. Not… him."

"Any past between Saytr and myself is just that, husband. The past," Kamea said flatly. "The Golden Hand is a part of me, and my rule. I will not pretend otherwise." she made sure that the last carried a hint of warning, the man was treading on thin ice with a heavy mech.

Karadin's sigh rushed through the comm like static. "I know, I know."

"Is there something else you wished to speak of?" Kamea asked. "Or just to complain about my escapades?"

"Grandmother is visiting. Again." he said, sounding much more tired. Kamea understood that. The woman was wretchedly exhausting. "She's taken rooms in the palace. 'To be close for the babes, when they arrive'. She says.

Kamea's teeth ground. The woman was relentless. She'd begun demanding an heir even before her grandson was wed! Now it was worse, every time she came close she spoke of children. Couldn't she just leave it until the man and wife **involved** decided it was time?!

"She should be minding her own business." Kamea spat through gritted teeth.

"I agree…" Karadin said slowly, "but many couples of our standing are already producing Heirs. A child is necessary for the succession of the line, Kamea. You don't want a succession war-"

"When it is time, we will have an Heir." Kamea said icily. "If you wish for a child before then, I suggest you find a way to carry the brat yourself." She bit off the last sharply. It was time to end this conversation, before she said something that could not be unsaid. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a meal waiting." Not exactly a lie. "If there is anything else?"

"I love you Kamea," Karadin said earnestly. "You know that, right?"

A smile warmed her. She couldn't stop it from coming to her lips. Whatever his flaws, he was a wonderful man. "Of course, Karadin. I love you as well." She closed the channel and put the communicator away, as she did she noticed Glitch staring at her, her chin propped up on her palms and a big smile across her face.

"You guys are real cute." she said.

Kamea tried to nod graciously. "Thank you, Glitch."

The mechwarrior woman went back to her tea. "It's a shame you don't love him." she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kamea coughed. "Excuse me?"

"You don't love him." Glitch explained. "Not saying you gotta, fancy noblewoman like yourself, but you don't."

"I assure you, I love my Husband very much." Kamea said coolly. Karadin was a good man. A fine man. He wasn't perfect, no man was. But he was smart, and graceful. A delightful conversationalist and a wonderful dancer. Tru, he was a little… passionless, sometimes. And he whined, when he should act, that was annoying too. He only drank wine, and he'd never even sat in a battlemech… Glitch just shrugged and took another sip of her tea, then grimaced.

"Too much poppy-extract" she muttered, the produced a small note book from her coat and jotted something down in it.

Kamea sat in a fog of thought until a soft _bong_ from the door announced the arrival of her food. A wave of her hand opened the door and a round cheeked, fat man wheeled in a tray covered in food.

"Tad," Kamea exclaimed, "You didn't have to make so much!"

"Oh nonsense m'lady." The head chef of the golden hand said with a thick brogue. "Ah knows ya like teh share with yer friends. I expected Commander to be here with ye. So I made both of ya's favourites." he looked around, "should I fetch'em for ye?" He produced a tall pair of candles, almost hopefully.

Kamea eyed the candles reproachfully. Tad swallowed. _Everyone plays the matchmaker…_ she thought ruefully. "That won't be necessary," She said, a little more coolly than she'd intended, but it'd been a trying day. "You can send whatever is left to Saytr once I am finished." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Tad bowed deeply and left.

She watched the chubby cheeked man leave. Tad had been a chef on Kormidir during her father's reign. Many of her family's few social outings as a child had been to his restaurant. He'd come to the Golden Hand once Kamea had had enough of the god awful rations they'd been eating. The Argo grew it's own food, it'd only made sense that it have a head chef. Tad had always had a soft spot for her, and was convinced that Adris was the man for her.

Kamea looked over the food. Then sat heavily on the chair.

"Y'ok, Kamea? Glitch asked.

"I just wish... " she took a breath. "I just wish people would stop trying to control my life. Stop putting me in cages." Before the Espinoza coup, her cage had been her duty. Then The Magistracy of Canopus had supplied her cage, gilded as it was. Then duty once more. After the restoration, she thought she'd found her way free of these cages. But this mystery attacker seemed to put her back in one. Even Saytr had been a cage, though a thoroughly enjoyable one, but still, a cage.

Glitch nodded sagely. "To acquire true happiness, sometimes you have to relinquish control. As I did."

Kamea narrowed her eyes curiously. _Wait for it…_

"I joined the Hand." Glitch's eyes lost focus seeing far away things. "I gave up my freedom." She closed her eyes and a smile bloomed on her lips. "And I saw a bear, once."

Kamea nodded, pulling her lips between her teeth and pressing to keep from laughing. "I see," Kamea said gravely. Glitch stood with the calm and gravitas of a great philosopher, stole a sandwich from Tad's cart and darted out the door.

Kamea chuckled quietly, and began eating. At least this was an interesting cage she found herself in.

* * *

Archangel hit the floor of the Gym's fight ring. He hit it hard. His head rang and spot danced across his eyes. He laid there for a moment as his senses returned to him. He shook his head to clear the spots and ran his tongue over his teeth. Good, none of the seemed to be loose.

"Get up," his opponent demanded. Behemoth bounced on the balls of her feet lightly. Her curled fists raised. At least she was wearing the slim, padded gloves for the fight. Her brows were drawn down tightly and her mouth pulled tight across her lips. Archangel pushed himself up to sit. He dragged his body over to lean against the ropes, draping his arms along the lowest ropes and taking a breather.

"Y'know, B." he said between breaths. "Most people these days just go to therapy." He smirked. Behemoth scowled.

"Get up, or step out of the ring," Behemoth ordered curtly.

Archangel sighed, then rolled under the ropes and stood, rolling his shoulder casually. "I'm all for a good fight. But you've got something to work out. Find someone else to be your punching bag." He turned and waved over his shoulder, walking away to the showers.

Behemoth ground her teeth. She needed to **do** something! She needed to **feel.** Behemoth took several marching steps and drove her fist into a hanging bag with all her might. The solid shock smashed through her arm and shoulder, and the bag swung gently. It wasn't enough. She needed more.

How could she have been so stupid? She knew that Olivai had trouble being alone. She'd lost her whole family. Though she was mute on any other details. She didn't have any friends. When she thought she'd lost her's and she worked herself to exhaustion to find her. And in return Behemoth had called her a stupid little girl and laughed at her face. Laughed!

"Looks like you're in a fine mood." Dekker's voice rang into the now empty gym. Most had the good sense to leave when Behemoth had arrived. The rest left when she'd begun dismantling Archangel. Behemoth looked up from her dark reverie.

Behemoth took a breath. "Hey Dek." She muttered. They'd never been exactly close. Those noble Liao types had an easy time getting under her skin. But Dekker wasn't so bad, as far as nobles go. Still an entitled prick sometimes, though.

"Heard you were terrorizing the recruits, figured something was up." Dekker said, ducking into the ring and shucking his coat. He wore a white sleeveless shirt under it. Losing a leg hadn't dulled the man in the slightest. His arms were corded with lean muscle,

Behemoth took a step back from the ring. "C'mon, Dek," She protested, "I can't-"

"Because of this?" He asked. Leaning on the ropes to raise his leg as he rolled up his pant leg, revealing his prosthetic. A sleek black aerosteel and polymer construction that ended in a simple arched spring that acted like a foot and ankle both. "Or because you don't think you can win?" He smirked and began rolling up the other leg of his pants.

"Dekker..." Behemoth knew he was trying to press her buttons, she raised open palms and backed away again. "I'm not gonna fight you like this."

Dekker shrugged and went over to pluck a slim, matte black polymer practice sword from a rack on the gym wall. "I'll give you a handicap." He said with a grin. "So we've both got one."

Behemoth opened her mouth.

"-If you don't spar with me here," Dekker warned. "I will officially take your place in the Hand's Rankings, I'll make sure of it." He paused for a moment, a man hesitating just before smashing his hand with a hammer. "Miranda." he finished.

Behemoth's mouth pressed down into a thin, dangerous line. "Dekker…" She warned.

Dekker smirked. "Or do you prefer Miri?"

Behemoth growled and stepped into the ring. "Fine." She spat. "Don't cry to me when you lose the other leg." In two long strides she was in range and dipped under Dekker's thrust. The point of his wooden sword slicing through the space her head had occupied a bare moment earlier. Behemoth grinned. _He's not playing, good._ She thought. She tried to get close, inside Dekker's guard, but the Liao Noble pivoted smoothly away from her and slashed down at an angle, its point tracing a line of fire across Behemoth's side. Behemoth had pulled away just in time to spare herself broken ribs. As it was she felt a hot trickle down her side. Behemoth danced backwards to recover. Breathing hard with a wild grin on her face. Dekker was cool as a frozen pond. His practice blade held easily in one hand with the other behind his back. He might be a prick, but Dekker was a talented fighter. More of a dueler to her brawler, but the only reason he wasn't higher on the rankings was because he didn't take the time to spar with anyone.

"Ready to take me seriously yet?" Dekker asked.

Behemoth dabbed at the ragged cut on her side. "That could have done serious damage." she raised fingers tipped with scarlet.

"Just giving you what you want." Dekker muttered.

Behemoth blinked, what the hells was he talking about? She raised her fists and came in. She didn't lose fights, not in mechs, or in the ring.

Everything Behemoth had learned about fighting she'd learned **by** fighting. There were no do overs. If you fuck up, you get hurt and die. Those are the rules. They came together and danced apart as if following a script. A high thrust from Dek scraped along her forearm as Behemoth came in close, her gloved fist smashing into his face and her leg sweeping his out from under him. Constant motion. Without thought he'd begun rolling to the side, avoiding a wild lunging punch from Behemoth. He came to his feet smoothly, wiping blood from his broken nose. Again. Behemoth had to pull back as Dek's blade nearly broke her clavicle, and her foot came down to try and trap it on the floor of the ring. Behemoth almost gasped as the blade slapped flat to the floor. Dekker let go of the hilt and leaned forward to plant his fist in her ribs. Air rushed from her lips, but she moved with the strike and flowed back, bringing her heel up and around at his head. If she had better aim the fight would have ended right there. Her foot hit a glancing blow off of Dekker's shoulder and Behemoth stumbled back, dull pain thrumming through her whole body.

Dekker retrieved his sword and, before she could get a full breath, delivered a series of sharp raps to her legs, side, arms and head.

Her head pounded and black and silver spots flashed in her eyes. She vaguely felt something on her chest and looked up to see the arch of Dekker's prosthetic leg rest over her sternum, with a quick shove, she was on the ground.

Behemoth groaned, her whole body hurt. A handful of individual hurts and injuries melded together into a single, throbbing pain across her whole body. It felt right. What she should feel like.

"You done?" Dekker asked her. She looked up at him to see his extended hand. She sighed. She felt… finished.

"Yeah, I'm done." Her hand clasped his and he pulled her up. As she swung up her head seemed to float up an extra few feet above her shoulders. "Woah…" she said, holding a hand to her head. "That was a good fight, Dek," She said, looked over with a genial grin.

Dekker furrowed his brow. And pulled her arm over his shoulder. "No it wasn't," He said. "It was a petulant child throwing a tantrum." They both began walking out of the ring.

Anger flashed through her. "Screw-" Behemoth cut of with a wince as her exertions caused a streak of pain to ride across her shoulders. "Screw you…" She muttered quietly.

Dekker grunted and led them both of them to the hospital. The doctors on duty were not pleased with them. Dr. Chawkas, a stern, greying woman, berated both of the senior mechwarriors. "Just because you're idiots doesn't mean you have to act like it." but their injuries were soon cleaned and bandaged. All in all, Behemoth had the worst of it. She'd been soundly beaten. Several deep muscle bruises, a broken finger, broken nose, and her tibia had a slight crack. Dekker came off easy with only a broken nose, a sprained wrist, and a few bruises on his chest and shoulder. They were sitting in the hospital wing when Commander Saytr strode in, his long coat swirling around him.

"What's this I hear about my mecharriors beating each other half to death?" He demanded, looking from Behemoth to Dekker.

"With respect, sir. I'm at most beaten a quarter to death," Behemoth said, chuckling. Dekker only bowed from where he sat. "Apologies, sir, no excuse." He said calmly. Saytr looked from one to the other, thoughts swirling behind his eyes. "Looks like I'll have to update the hand to hand rankings."

Behemoth opened her mouth to make a snide remark, but Dekker cut in. "No need sir. It wasn't a fair fight. I won't have it."

A heavy, considering look from the commander. "Very well. Sleep it off, you two. Don't take it so far again."

"Yes, sir." Both Mechwarriors snapped a salute and Saytr marched out.

Chawkas discharged Dekker first, keeping Behemoth to make sure her head wounds were non-serious. They weren't, and within an hour Behemoth was limping out the front door of the hospital wing, her lift arm in a sling and a crutch tucked under her right. She had a spring in her step, and an order to take it easy for a few days. That wasn't so bad, she had a bottle of-

Dekker looked up from where he stood just outside the hospital wing. In a quiet, serious conversation with Saytr. A flicker of anger twisted Behemoth's mouth for a moment as she saw their looks. Pity.

Saytr quietly excused himself and Dekker raised a hand as she got ready to tear him a new one. "You're allowed to forgive yourself, you know." He said sadly.

A flurry of withing insults died on her tongue. Behemoth blinked. "What?"

"I don't know what happened." Dekker started firmly, "but next time you fuck up, I'm not going to be your hairshirt. Figure your shit out, Miranda." He turned on his heel, and marched away, leaving Behemoth so dumbfounded she didn't even get angry at him for using her name.

Behemoth just shook her head. What did he know? He was some silver spoon fed Noble. Behemoth turned and walked to alpha pod. That's where she'd probably be. It didn't take long for Behemoth to find Olivai, she was curled up on a wide couch, covered in a thick blanket with a vid on screen casting a harsh, flickering light on her sleeping stirred gently when Behemoth sat next to her.

"Mmh?" the young mechtech blinked heavily as she looked around. "When am I?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Almost second shift." Behemoth told her, easing her easing back into the seat. Olivai's half closed eyes swept over Behemoth's battered form and flew wide. "Behemoth!" She said up sharply, "What happened to you?"

Behemoth affected a shrug without actually moving her shoulders. "There was a sparring accident," she said. "It's fine." She grinned. "You should see the other guy."

"How is this fine?" Olivai sputtered.

"I just wanted to apologize." Behemoth said. "I was-"

"Never mind that." Olivai said, her eyes were wide with worry. Bright, beautiful brown orbs. They shimmered with pure **care**. Like whatever she looked at was the most important think in the galaxy.

Olivai flung over the blanket. "Come sit, we'll watch together." Olivai smiled and patted the couch next to her.

"I'd love to." Behemoth said truthfully. She really, really would. But…"Yeah, but the commander's got me on duty."

"Even after-?"

Behemoth shrugged. "The benefits of being the best." she laughed weakly, standing up. "I'll catch up with you later, though. We'll hang out."

Behemoth opened the door, backing out. "I'll see you later. Olivai, I promise." She closed the door behind her and made for her quarters. She would spend time with Olivai. But not yet. She would later.

When she felt she deserved it.


End file.
